He was puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“All these.” Her hand indicated the marble men and women.
He laughed. “Great old freaks, aren’t they?”
Freaks!
Well, of course, it all depended absolutely on the point of view.
“I like them all,” she said, sturdily, “even the ones in the hideous frock coats.”
“Surely not, my dear.”
“Yes, I do. They may be bad art, but they’re good Americans.”
His laugh was indulgent. “After you’ve been abroad a few times, you won’t be so provincial.”