"Some men,—but not you, Philip?"
"What distinguishes me from the mass?"
"You are too old to be made a fool of."
"Old enough to be wise, certainly."
"And you are too fastidious to be satisfied with anything short of perfection; and then you fill too high a position in the world to marry a girl who is nobody."
"So?"—said Philip, using, which it always vexed his sister to have him do, the half questioning, half admiring, wholly unattackable German expression. "Then the person alluded to seemed to you something short of perfection?"
"She is handsome," returned his sister; "she has a very handsome face; anybody can see that; but that does not make her your equal."
"Humph!—You suppose I can find that rare bird, my equal, do you?"
"Not there."
"What's the matter with her?"