‘Angela!’
General Ople was blushingly delivered of the name.
‘That will do,’ said she. ‘And as I think it possible one may be admired too much as an artist, I must request you to keep my number of years a secret.’
‘To the death, madam,’ said the General.
‘And now we will take a turn in the garden, Wilson Ople. And beware of one thing, for a commencement, for you are full of weeds, and I mean to pluck out a few: never call any place a gentlemanly residence in my hearing, nor let it come to my ears that you have been using the phrase elsewhere. Don’t express astonishment. At present it is enough that I dislike it. But this only,’ Lady Camper added, ‘this only if it is not your intention to withdraw from your position.’
‘Madam, my lady, I was saying—hem!—Angela, I could not wish to withdraw.’
Lady Camper leaned with some pressure on his arm, observing, ‘You have a curious attachment to antiquities.’
‘My dear lady, it is your mind; I say, it is your mind: I was saying, I am in love with your mind,’ the General endeavoured to assure her, and himself too.
‘Or is it my powers as an artist?’
‘Your mind, your extraordinary powers of mind.’