"I think it's a rather extraordinary thing, Mrs. Maxwell's asking him, though, don't you?" one of the ladies said.
The reply was in a gentle and more sympathetic voice: "Oh, she wanted an attraction, I suppose, and he's really very good-looking, you know."
"He's handsome enough, but he's too much like a matinee hero for me; my dear, he's absolutely impossible, really! He's not the sort of person one cares to meet more than once. He's beyond the pale.
"It's rather cruel to invite him just to show him off, I think. In a way, he had to accept."
"Oh, I expect he's only too glad to come."
"I wonder how he feels! Do you suppose he has any idea that he's out of his element? It must be strange to be willing to accept an invitation when you know you are, after all, only a sort of freak."
"Don't worry. A charlatan has to have a pretty thick skin—no doubt he'll make use of all of us, and brag about his acquaintance. That's his business, you know; he has to advertise himself."
"I know; but every man has his own sense of dignity, and it must be somewhat mortifying—no self-respecting coal-heaver would accept such an invitation—his pride would keep him from it.
"I don't see how a man like that can have much pride. A coal-heaver has, after all, a dignified way of earning his living. This man hasn't. His trade can't permit him to be self-respecting. It's more undignified than any honest labor would be. Why, he lives by trickery and flattery, and now he's beginning to toady, too. Just look at the way he is after Clytie Payson, already."
"Yes, I can't see why she permits it, but she seems to be positively fascinated by him. Isn't it strange how a fine girl like that is usually the most easily deceived? Did you see the way she was looking at him at supper? That told the story. Of course, you'd expect it of Mrs. Page, but not of Cly."