"You condemn a nation for a few. Young man, you haven't travelled far enough. And you make me tired to hear you talk in that way. You're a nice fellow spoiled, I reckon. Why, where I live there's dozens of English public school men working as cockies and jackaroos. They wouldn't go back home if you paid them. They like the life. Everybody makes them at home, and many of them have married our Australian girls. These women can milk, bake, ride, drive, sew and rear the most charming children. And they can meet you in a drawing-room with a natural grace that is their own. Intellectually, too, they are pleasant to meet, for the loneliness has given them time to think and read. Look at that girl there, doesn't she look a lady?"
"Yes."
"Isn't she absolutely perfect?"
"Well, yes."
"Does her dress fit?"
"Decidedly."
"Do you think her table manners are awkward?"
"No."
"Isn't there something easy and natural, no false pose, a sort of innate grace of mind and body?"
"Certainly, but is this not some strange exception, just as you find in many parts?"