“I should have expected you to say Cornet Stubbs, instead.”
“Ha, ha, ha! No, no! He’s too stupid to be a pleasant companion for me.”
“And Captain Scarthe is too much the opposite to be a pleasant companion for me. In truth, of the two I like Stubbs best—spite of his vulgar patronymic.”
“You are jesting, Marion? Stubbs, Stubbs,—Cornet Stubbs! How would it sound as Colonel Stubbs? Not a whit better. No: not if he were General Stubbs. Mistress Stubbs? I wouldn’t be called so for the world! Lady Stubbs? No, not for a coronet!”
“Between Stubbs, and Scarthe, I see not much to choose.”
“Marion, you mistake. There’s a warlike sound about Scarthe. I could imagine a man of that name to be a hero.”
“And I could imagine a man of that name to be a poltroon—I do.”
“What! not our Captain Scarthe? Why everybody calls him a most accomplished cavalier. Certes, he appears so. A little rude at first, I acknowledge; but since then, who could have acted more cavalierly? And to you, cousin, surely he has been sufficiently attentive, to have won your profound esteem?”
“Say rather my profound detestation. Then you would come nearer speaking the truth: he has won that.”
“You don’t show it, I’m sure. I’ve seen you and Captain Scarthe very happy together—very happy indeed—if one may judge from appearances.”