"His passion for women is so very violent," I observed, "that somehow or other, it disgusted me."
"All ladies are not so refined," replied Graham, laughing.
"Perhaps not," answered I; "perhaps I may not be so refined when I like my man better."
Street was all this time making hard love to Fanny. Poor Street though a very pleasant man, is, as he knows, a very ugly one. Fanny's extreme good nature was always a Refuge for the Destitute. If ever there was a lame, a deaf, a blind, or an ugly man, in our society, Fanny invariably made up to that man immediately, to put him in countenance. Nay, she would, I believe, have made up to the Duke of Devonshire, blind, deaf, absent and all, had he fallen in her way.
At this moment, my ear caught the word cruel, as applied to Fanny by Street.
"Quite the reverse, Fanny is all goodness," I exclaimed.
"Yes," rejoined Street, "as far as words go."
"It is you, Mr. Street, who cruelly neglect me, on the contrary," said Fanny, laughing.
"Never!" answered Street, laying his hand on his heart.