“No, no,” Staniford quickly interrupted, “why did it surprise you to find Dunham good?”
“I don't know. You don't expect a person to be serious who is so—so—”
“Handsome?”
“No,—so—I don't know just how to say it: fashionable.”
Staniford laughed. “Why, Miss Blood, you're fashionably dressed yourself, not to go any farther, and you're serious.”
“It's different with a man,” the girl explained.
“Well, then, how about me?” asked Staniford. “Am I too well dressed to be expected to be serious?”
“Mr. Dunham always seems in earnest,” Lydia answered, evasively.
“And you think one can't be in earnest without being serious?” Lydia suffered one of those silences to ensue in which Staniford had already found himself helpless. He knew that he should be forced to break it: and he said, with a little spiteful mocking, “I suppose the young men of South Bradfield are both serious and earnest.”
“How?” asked Lydia.