"He's the most delightful man I ever met!" sighed Augusta Miner, before Lawrence had time to say anything.
"Did you notice his eyes, Mr. Lawrence?" asked Miss Elizabeth. "Don't you think they're beautiful?"
"Beautiful? Well—it depends," Lawrence answered with considerable hesitation, for he did not in the least know what to say.
"Oh, but it isn't his eyes, nor his conversation!" put in Cordelia, emphatically. "It is that he's such a perfect gentleman! You feel that he wouldn't do anything that wasn't quite—quite—don't you know?"
"I'm not sure that I do," replied Lawrence, in some bewilderment. "But I understand what you mean," he added confidently.
"My dear," said Augusta to her eldest sister, "all that is perfectly true, as I always say. But those are not the things that make him the most charming man I ever met. Oh dear, no! Ever so many men one knows have good eyes, and talk well, and are gentlemen in every way. I'm sure you wouldn't have a man about if he wasn't a gentleman. Would you?"
"Oh no—in a wider sense—all the men we have to do with are, of course—"
"Well," argued Augusta, "that's just what I'm telling you, my dear. It isn't those things. It lies much deeper. It's a sort of refined appreciation—an appreciative refinement—both, you know. Now, the other day, do you remember?—when I was playing that Mazurka of Chopin—did you notice his expression?"
"But he always has that expression when anything pleases him very much," said Miss Elizabeth.
"Yes, I know. But just then, it was quite extraordinary—there's something almost childlike—"