“Oh yes, in a kind of a way,” said Nancy, with careless scorn, “in your manners, and so forth. And clergymen, and teachers, and those sort of people are called so out of civility; but I never think anybody is a gentleman that has his own living to make.”
“I think you are a little hard upon us, Mrs. Curtis,” said the Curate, with a smile.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to be hard,” said Nancy. “You are just as good as anyone else. Those that have plenty to live on are the best off, but I don’t say that I despise those that have to work. They are good enough in their way. It isn’t their fault they were born as they are, nor was it any virtue in my husband to be born Arthur Curtis. He couldn’t help it, neither can you.”
Thus Nancy vanquished the adversary at the dinner-table. When the ladies went back to the drawing-room, which was not till a late hour, for it took a long time to make Nancy understand Mrs. Eagles’ little nods and signs from the other end of the table—but when they got upstairs at last, the Curate’s wife benevolently interfered to set Nancy at her ease after this mistake.
“I daresay you have been used to the French way of the men coming upstairs along with the ladies; and a far better plan it is, I think.”
Nancy looked coolly at the questioner. She was more comfortable when Arthur’s eyes were not upon her, watching everything she said and did.
“I didn’t make any mistake,” she said, “but gentlemen’s conversation is the best, isn’t it? I wanted to have as much as I could of that. I didn’t want to be left to women’s society—three petticoats together,” and she laughed with insolent meaning. Nancy had read a great many novels, and she knew that these were the sentiments generally attributed to a heroine, and she was determined that there should be nothing in her mind which she would not have the courage to say.
“I hope we shall not be so very tiresome to you,” said Mrs. Eagles, with an involuntary glance at the other. “We hear you have been in Paris, Mrs. Curtis. You must have enjoyed that. It is always so bright and gay.”
“I did not think it was gay at all,” said Nancy, “a very stupid place. Everybody talked so queerly, not at all like the French one learns at school; and they have such queer dishes, and altogether they are so queer. Have you been in Paris? I did not find it at all gay.”
“There are so many things to see,” Mrs. Eagles suggested.