“As, indeed, they ought to be,” he rejoined, quickly; “else why are your sex so desirous to obtain the approving admiration of ours?”
“A fallacy, which your sex has the impertinence to assert, and the fatuity to believe,” she responded with a curling lip.
“A shrewd imbecility, nevertheless,” returned Vane, smiling meaningly. “What say you, Miss Evangeline?”
“Indeed, I think she had the sweetest face I ever beheld!” exclaimed Evangeline, with an enthusiasm which afflicted Mrs. Grahame—if that lady permitted any emotion, residing soberly within her well-ordered frame, to agitate itself to the extent of affliction.
“Pish!” cried Malcolm, “you like dolls, even now. The fact is, you are all at fault; the companion was the prettiest of the two.”
“What, haw maid?” inquired the Duke, extending his eyebrows half way up his forehead.
“No, her friend. I have seen them arm in arm. None of you looked at her face; I did—she had the prettiest in Christendom, St. Allborne, all the world to nothing.”
“May I, without inadvertence, inquire whose merits you are discussing?” inquired Mr. Grahame, with a loftiness he had for some time not displayed.
“I have been listening in pain and astonishment,” responded Mrs. Grahame; “the subject is some creature who suddenly intruded herself upon your family and your guests in your garden, Mr. Grahame.”
“Intruded herself in my garden!” exclaimed ‘Mr. Grahame, in a tone of outraged dignity.