"Do you, dear? I thought you scorned young men?"
"As a class, yes!—Especially the Cambridge variety. But not in particular. I make an exception in this case."
"So good of you!" murmured Margaret in her best company manner.
"Why did you never tell me how nice he was?"
"Tell you how nice he was? I don't remember ever discussing him with you in any shape or form whatever."
"Not to say discussed exactly, but you can't deny that you've mentioned him occasionally."
"So I have William Shakespeare and Alfred Tennyson—"
"And Charles Pixley!"
"That's quite different—"
"You're right, my dear. This is a horse of quite another colour. An awfully decent colour too. I'm glad you appreciate it. He's as brown as a gipsy and not an ounce of flab about him. Charles Pixley is mostly flab—"