"In himself, I fancy. Even the baldest creed is usually self-embracing. But I believe he indulges in the not unfashionable luxury of doubts. You might attend to them, Elisabeth; you are the sort of girl who would enjoy attending to doubts."
"I suppose I really am too fond of arguing."
"There you misjudge yourself. You are instructive rather than argumentative. Saying the same thing over and over again in different language is not arguing, you know; I should rather call it preaching, if I were not afraid of hurting your feelings."
"You are a very rude boy! But, anyway, I have taught you a lot of things; you can't deny that."
"I don't wish to deny it; I am your eternal debtor. To tell the truth, I believe you have taught me everything I know, that is worth knowing, except the things that you have tried to teach me. There, I must confess, you have signally failed."
"What have I tried to teach you?"
"Heaps of things: that pleasure is more important than duty; that we are sent into the world to enjoy ourselves; that the worship of art is the only soul-satisfying form of faith; that conscience is an exhausted force; that feelings and emotions ought to be labelled and scheduled; that lobster is digestible; that Miss Herbert is the most attractive woman in the world; etcetera, etcetera."
"And what have I taught you without trying?"
"Ah! that is a large order; and it is remarkable that the things you have taught me are just the things that you have never learned yourself."
"Then I couldn't have taught them."