The face in the glass smiled dimly, between two parted veils of hair.
"What is a gentleman?"
The face in the glass suggested that this was indeed a subtle and a difficult question.
"It was not his business if I chose to tire myself. Would it have been his business if he'd been a gentleman?"
The face in the glass offered no opinion.
"I think I like him best when he's impertinent. He is so very funny, poor dear, when he tries to be polite."
The face in the glass, framed by two white arms raising a column of hair, was suffused with rosy mirth.
"I wonder what Horace really thinks of him?"
The face, triumphantly crowned with its dark coil, looked grave.
"He is a gentleman. At least, he lied like one."