"No, no—that's not the man. This was an Englishman—his first name was—I forget what it was. Anyhow he's been dead a long time. He was a very fat man, and he proposed to Mme. de Staël, or George Sand, or one of those women, and when he got down on his knees he was so fat that he couldn't get up again, and had to ask her to help him up."
"How perfectly ridiculous! I hate fat men. I hope she didn't accept him! Did she?"
"I don't know."
"Well, I don't want to read his book, anyhow. But I've simply got to read something that sounds cultured and learned. Aunt Ella has been at me again; she says this is a good time, during vacation. Fanny Brooks has a great long list of the books she has read—I am so tired of having Fanny Brooks thrown at me! She never reads anything interesting, or does anything at all for pleasure. She ought to be a nun. Can't you think of something that will impress Aunt Ella—something that sounds awfully impressive and dry and cultured, but really is easy to read?"
"Well, let me see, how about Browning?"
"I've read him."
"Like him?"
"No."
"It seems to be a tough proposition. What does your Aunt Ella read? Why don't you take some of her books?"