"You are, you mean," said his sister; "and she listens and makes big eyes. Of course nothing can be more delightful. But, Tom, she knows nothing at all; not so much as how to dress herself."
"Wasn't she well enough dressed the other day?"
"Somebody arranged that for her."
"Well, somebody could do it again. You girls think so much of dressing. It isn't the first thing about a woman, after all."
"You men think enough about it, though. What would tempt you to go out with me if I wasn't assez bien mise? Or what would take any man down Broadway with his wife if she hadn't a hoop on?"
"Doesn't the lady in question wear a hoop?" inquired Philip.
"No, she don't."
"Singular want of taste!"
"Well, you don't like them; but, after all, it's the fashion, and one can't help oneself. And, as I said, you may not like them, but you wouldn't walk with me if I hadn't one."
"Then, to sum up—the deficiencies of this lady, as I understand, are,—education and a hoop? Is that all?"