'I dined with Walsh yesterday,' he said, at length, struggling to shake off the obvious dreariness that oppressed him. 'He suits me; we can get on together.'
'No doubt.'
'But you don't dislike him, I think?'
'Implying that I dislike you,' said Sidwell, lightsomely.
'You have no affection for my opinions.—Walsh is an honest man.'
'I hope so.'
'He says what he thinks. No compromise with fashionable hypocrisy.'
'I despise that kind of thing quite as much as you do.'
They looked at each other. Buckland had a sullen air.
'Yes, in your own way,' he replied, 'you are sincere enough, I have no doubt. I wish all women were so.