"Does she blink when she talks to me?"
"Of course not—you're different."
"I am not her son-in-law, certainly."
"Do you know, though he's so much older than me—I simply shudder when I think he's thirty-seven—and so awfully clever, and so bad-tempered, I'm not in the least afraid of him. And he really has a shocking bad temper."
"I know it of old."
"So many nice people have bad tempers. I think it's the least horrid fault you can have; because it comes on you when you're not thinking, and it isn't your fault at all."
"No; it is generally some one else's."
"I don't think much of people's passions myself. He might have something far worse than that."
"Most undoubtedly. He might have atrocious taste in dress, or a tendency to drink."
"Don't be silly. Did you know him when he was young? I don't mean to say he isn't young—thirty-seven's young enough for anybody—I mean when he was young like me?"