"Because he is so outrageously conceited. You, as a lady, or at any rate as a woman, like conceited men."
"Ah, yes; I have no doubt that I, as a woman, have all kinds of improper tastes. That's an old story."
"Admit, at any rate, that our friend is conceited."
"Admit it? Why, I have said so a hundred times. I have told him so."
"Indeed! It has come to that, then?"
"To what, pray?"
"To that critical point in the friendship of a lady and gentleman, when they bring against each other all kinds of delightful charges of moral obliquity. Take care, Miss Blunt! A couple of intelligent New-Englanders, of opposite sex, young, unmarried, are pretty far gone, when they begin morally to reprobate each other. So you told Mr. Johnson that he is conceited? And I suppose you added, that he was also dreadfully satirical and skeptical? What was his rejoinder? Let me see. Did he ever tell you that you were a little bit affected?"
"No: he left that for you to say, in this very ingenious manner. Thank you, sir."
"He left it for me to deny, which is a great deal prettier. Do you think the manner ingenious?"
"I think the matter, considering the day and hour, very profane, Mr. Locksley. Suppose you go away and let me read my Bible."