He started up and obsequiously drew away.
"You are very coy, Mr. Boyce," said the lady.
Harry replied, with the servile laughter of a dependent, "Oh, ma'am, you
are mocking me."
"Tit for tat"--Alison's eyes had some fire in them.
"Tat, ma'am?"
"Lud, now, don't be tedious. Sir, the house of Waverton is entranced by
your splendid father: and Charles Hadley (as usual) is entranced by
himself. You have no audience Mr. Boyce. Stop acting, and tell me--what
is wrong with me?"
Harry considered her with calm criticism. "It's not for me to tell Miss
Lambourne that she is too beautiful."
"Indeed, I thought you had more sense."
"Too beautiful," Harry persisted deliberately; "too beautiful to be
good company."
"That will not serve, sir. You are not so inflammable. Being more in the
nature of a tortoise."
"If you had a flaw or so: if your nose had a twist; if your cheeks had
felt the weather; if--I fear, ma'am, I grow intimate. In fine, if you
were less fine, you would be a comfort to a man. But as it is--permit the
tortoise to keep in his shell."
"I advise you, Mr. Boyce--I resent this."
Harry bowed. "I dare to remind you, ma'am--I did not demand the
conversation."
"The conversation!" Her eyes flashed. "What do I care if a lad's
impudent? Perhaps I like it well enough, Mr.
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