"She grasps the ideas I present to her with astonishing quickness," answered his nephew, absently. "A very bright, eager mind. She has innate refinement and tact—for all her unconventional freedom of manner, which is only the outcome of her unconsciousness—and that is, after all, her particular charm, her unconsciousness. I catch a glimpse, now and then, of a certain wildness of spirit. I fear she would beat her wings against—certain fetters—unless—unless—well, it is most interesting to watch the phases of this young, tender nature—the product of a new civilization."
"Thurston, who in the world are you talking about?"
"Miss Stillwater, of course!"
"I thought so. You were talking about the young one and I was talking about the old one. It's very irritating—you've done that before."
"When did I do it before? And be kind enough to explain who you mean by 'the old one'?"
"Mrs. Bunker, of course."
"Oh, Mrs. Bunker!" repeated Lord Canning, with a sarcastic intonation. "I presume I have the same right to talk about Miss Stillwater as you have to talk—about Mrs. Bunker, Uncle Nelson!"
"No one's disputing your right, but you're continually talking about her!"
"I wasn't aware I monopolized the conversation to that degree."
"Well, you do. You're continually 'studying' her and relating the results of your observations. I should think you would know her by heart before you left her."