"Do you remember that fancy ball, and how the prince asked who I was, and all the rest of it? He said one or two very pretty things to me. He, like you, said I was charming. Do you know," naively, "I have never got over the feeling of being obliged to any one who pays me a compliment? I am obliged to you now."
"And to the prince then. But you won't see many princes if you stay in Ireland, I fancy: they don't hanker after the soil."
"Poor Ireland!" says Mrs. Bohun.
"And compliments, I should say, will be almost as scarce."
"Ah! now, there you are wrong: they fly beneath these murky skies. We absolutely revel in them. What true Irishman but has one ripping freely from his mouth on the very smallest chance? And then, my dear Hermia, consider, are we not the proud possessors of the blarney-stone?"
"I wish, dearest, you would bring yourself to think seriously of Rossmoyne."
"I do think seriously of him. It would be impossible to think of him in any other way, he is so dull and pompous."
"He would make an excellent husband!"
"I have had enough of husbands. They are very unsatisfactory people. And besides——"
"Well?"