"I sometimes think," said he turning over the leaves of her book, "that these are the best companionship one can have--the world at large is very unsatisfactory."
"O how much!" said Fleda with a long breath. "The only pleasant thing that my eyes rested upon as I came through the streets this afternoon, was a huge bunch of violets that somebody was carrying. I walked behind them as long as I could."
"Is your old love for Queechy in full force?" said Mr. Carleton, still turning over the leaves, and smiling.
"I believe so--I should be very sorry to live here long--at home I can always go out and find society that refreshes me."
"You have set yourself a high standard," he said, with no displeased expression of the lips.
"I have been charged with that," said Fleda;--"but is it possible to set too high a standard, Mr. Carleton?"
"One may leave oneself almost alone in the world."
"Well, even then," said Fleda, "I would rather have only the image of excellence than be contented with inferiority."
"Isn't it possible to do both?" said he, smiling again.
"I don't know," said Fleda,--"perhaps I am too easily dissatisfied--I believe I have grown fastidious living alone--I have sometimes almost a disgust at the world and everything in it."