“I can’t attempt to combat this hobby of yours, Fortescue.”
“Again a be-littling epithet in place of an argument! But I know of old that on this subject your intellectual acumen deserts you, as it deserts nearly all men. You sink suddenly to lower spiritual rank, and employ reasoning that you would laugh to scorn in connection with every other topic.”
“You seem bent on crushing me,” exclaimed Theobald. “And Mrs. Temperley enjoys seeing me mangled. Talk about cruelty to animals! I call this cold-blooded devilry! Mrs. Temperley, come to my rescue!”
“So long as other forms of cruelty can be instanced, Professor Theobald, I don’t see how, on your own shewing, you can expect any consistent person to raise a finger to help you,” Hadria returned. Theobald laughed.
“But I consider myself too important and valuable to be made the subject of this harsh treatment.”
“That is for others to decide. If it affords us amusement to torment you, and amusement benefits our nerves and digestion, how can you justly object? We must consider the greatest good of the greatest number; and we are twice as numerous as you.”
“You are delicious!” he exclaimed. Mrs. Temperley’s manner stiffened.
Acute as the Professor was in many directions, he did not appear to notice the change.
His own manner was not above criticism.
“It is strange,” said Lady Engleton, in speaking of him afterwards to Hadria, “it is strange that his cleverness does not come to the rescue; but so far from that, I think it leads him a wild dance over boggy ground, like some will-o’-the-wisp, but for whose freakish allurements the good man might have trodden a quiet and inoffensive way.”