"I hope you will appreciate all such attentions," he returned, smiling, "and not be too much influenced by first impressions. Ladies, I believe, generally are."
"And men?"
"Well, a man—at all events an American—is slower in forming any in his intercourse with foreigners. You see, English manners are different in some ways from ours. It wouldn't do for us to trust first impressions very often."
"Has your remark any personal application?" asked Grace, laughing. "Did my manners repel you at first?"
"No," he replied, quietly; "I had never met a young lady like you, and yet I can't exactly say why; for your manners have more of the frankness of our nicest American girls than those of most Englishwomen I have met. And Englishmen—well, as I say—they require to be known."
Miss Ballinger was silent. She felt sure that her brother's free-and-easy, rather de-haut-en-bas manner was in the sensitive young American's mind. She knew also what a good fellow Mordaunt really was at heart, and how either man if he could discard his husk would appreciate the other. But the husk of manner is as necessary a protection to the Englishman, who is habitually on the defensive, as the unfashionable clothes worn by the American were to his body. She hoped these two would draw nearer to each other by and by, but at present there was nothing to be done. Presently he said,
"That Lady Clydesdale—is she really a great lady? Her opinions and her manners seem to us rather odd."
"I wish I could say she is not well-born, but she is. I shouldn't mind her opinions if she had only better manners. Such an incendiary should at least offer her firebrands with some persuasive charm, not fling them in your face; pray don't regard her as a typical Englishwoman. I am ashamed of my countrywoman."
He smiled.
"And yet I fancy she will have great success with some of our advanced women. When are you coming to Boston, Miss Ballinger?"