“Last wreck of a feeble intellect! Poetry! Is it his own, do you think? Oh, that I ever built my hopes on such a maudlin idiot!”
“No. It's a quotation from Mrs. Browning, and, in view of the facts of the case, as Jack says, uncommonly well chosen. Listen:
“'Sweet thou has trod on a heart—
Pass! There's a world full of men
And women as fair as thou art,
Must do such things now and then.
“'Thou only hast stepped unaware—
Malice not one can impute;
And why should a heart have been there,
In the way of a fair woman's foot?'
“I didn't—I didn't—I didn't!” said Mrs. Hauksbee, angrily, her eyes filling with tears; “there was no malice at all. Oh, it's too vexatious!”
“You've misunderstood the compliment,” said Mrs. Mallowe. “He clears you completely and—ahem—I should think by this, that he has cleared completely too. My experience of men is that when they begin to quote poetry, they are going to flit. Like swans singing before they die, you know.”
“Polly, you take my sorrows in a most unfeeling way.”
“Do I? Is it so terrible? If he's hurt your vanity, I should say that you've done a certain amount of damage to his heart.”
“Oh, you never can tell about a man!” said Mrs. Hauksbee, with deep scorn.
Reviewing the matter as an impartial outsider, it strikes me that I'm about the only person who has profited by the education of Otis Yeere. It comes to twenty-seven pages and bittock.