She.—From an opposite reason. I had so many talents that, like the woman in "Mother Goose," I hardly knew what to do.
He.—That sounds modest. You probably would have been a great actress.
She.—I might not have been. Sometimes, you know, persons who are very gifted seem to miss the best that life has to offer.
He.—I have decided that you are interesting, not because you do not "sidetrack," but because you have such a stupendous amount of conceit. You seem to be fully aware of what you possess. It is delightful.
She.—My talent or my conceit?
He.—Both.
She.—I am sure that if any one else possessed my talents, I should not hesitate to speak of them. Why should I not speak of mine?
He.—That is one way to look at it. Now, I suppose if I were to tell you that you were very gifted, you would say, "Thank you; I think that I am, too,"—or words to that effect.
She.—Yes; I think that I should respond in some such way. Why should I not? Why shouldn't I recognize my gifts and be thankful for them?
He.—Well, usually, you know, when any one receives a compliment, he is apt to regard it as flattery, and to treat it accordingly; or, if he thinks the praise is merited, his words are apt to belie his thoughts.