"Those prejudices don't affect my sister," I took courage to remark.
"They should. No decent woman can afford to despise the prejudices of a decent man. The place of a young and beautiful woman is not——"
"I did not tell you she was young or beautiful. I—she—we are thirty years old; and 'pretty,' 'interesting,' 'fine-looking,' are the most complimentary epithets which have ever been applied to us."
"We don't all see with the same eyes," the man said.
It was on our last evening that I sate on a chair in the hotel gardens; he came and smoked his cigar beside me.
"You go to-morrow?" he said.
I nodded.
"And you don't purpose to tell me where you go?"
I shook my head. How can I have him coming to my place with that story of my sister—?
"So here, for ever, we say good-bye. I go back to my practice in Sydney; and you——?"