"That is due to the training of life," Cosden explained, caring little what direction the conversation took so long as they became better acquainted. "The higher up you go, the greater the repression. Diplomacy is the climax of gentlemanly concealment of one's real feelings, and the art among arts of courteous insincerity. In business, of course, there's a reason—"
"Can't a man be sincere in business?" she asked, looking at him with eyes so deep and straightforward in their expression that he found the question disconcerting.
"Why,—of course," he stumbled; "but 'sincerity' isn't exactly a business expression. If I let you know by my manner that I was eager to buy something which you wanted to sell, or to sell something you wanted to buy, it would naturally affect the price, wouldn't it?"
"Ought it to?" she persisted. "Why isn't that taking advantage?"
Cosden smiled indulgently. "Some time, if you like, I will give you a learned discourse on values and what affects them, but anything so erudite now would take your mind off the gaieties of your sailing trip."
"Will you?" Merry exclaimed delighted. "Father always makes fun of me when I ask serious questions. I am sure I should hate business, because it seems always to be a question of taking advantage of some one else; but I should like to know something about it."
"You don't approve of taking advantage of some one else?"
"It is exactly the opposite of what we are taught to consider right, isn't it?"
"How about bargain-sales when you are home?" Cosden asked with apparent innocence. "Do you ever patronize them?"
"Why, yes," Merry replied frankly; "I frequently wait for them when I want some particular thing, and my allowance is running low."