All the men laughed.
"There is really nothing to talk about but ourselves," continued Isabel, "just as there is really nothing for breakfast but bacon. People try all sorts of fancy subjects and dishes, but they come back to where they started from, like boomerangs."
"You are a very clever young lady," said Lord Wrexham appreciatively. "You combine such keen powers of perception with such a great facility of expression."
"Thank you. I have devoted a considerable time to 'the proper study of mankind,' and I consider myself a proficient in the subject."
"It is a subject which repays careful study, my dear lady," remarked Madderley. "I know only one that excels it in interest, and that one—being composed entirely of brilliant exceptions ungoverned by any guiding rules—I should describe as a dangerous recreation rather than as a proper study."
"I don't believe you understand men as well as you think you do," exclaimed Lord Bobby bluntly.
Isabel raised her pretty eyebrows. "Don't I, though?"
"Pardon me, Thistletown," said Mr. Madderley; "you are surely mistaken. Miss Carnaby's knowledge of this subject is experimental as well as profound, and her treatment of it is beyond—sometimes considerably beyond—all praise."
An angry spot burned on Isabel's cheek. "You are pleased to be very witty this evening, Mr. Madderley."
"Once upon a time," added the artist, "there was a rose who imagined she knew how to make beeswax, because there were always some bees buzzing round her. It amused the bees."