'Leonard is considered particularly gentlemanlike,' said Ave, with lips compressed, to keep back something about old bachelors.
'Now, I should have thought a lady would have some regard to her own drawing-room, and object to slovenliness—elbows on table, feet everywhere!'
'Nothing is in worse taste than constraint,' said Ave from the corners of her mouth—'at least for those that can trust their manners without it.'
'I tell you, Ave, you are spoiling the boy. He is more conceited than ever since the Mays noticed him.'
'Leonard conceited!'
'Yes; he is getting as stuck up as Tom May himself—your model I believe!'
'I thought he was yours!'
'Mine?'
'Yes; you always seem to aim at a poor imitation of him.'
There was a blushing angry stammer in reply; and she suppressed her smile, but felt triumphant in having hit the mark. Unready at retort, he gathered himself up, and said: 'Well, Ave, I have only this to say, that if you choose to support that boy in his impertinences, there will be no bearing it; and I shall see what I shall do.'