He had credited her with too much
pride to succumb to flattery, which was to his taste impudently gross.
But he was not yet old enough to allow that other folks might have tastes
wholly unlike his own, and he had himself--it is perhaps the only trait
of much delicacy in him--a shrinking discomfort under praise.
Colonel Boyce took his victory with a complacency which Harry thought
oddly fatuous in a man so acute.
"Egad, the old lady would go to church with me to-morrow if I asked her;"
he laughed, and seemed to think that in that at least my lady showed
sense.
"You had better take her, sir," said Harry, with a sneer. "I know she has
a good dower. And a fool and her money are soon parted."
"Damme, Harry, you are venomous!" For the first time in their
acquaintance Colonel Boyce showed some signs of smarting. "What harm have
I done you? No, sir, you have a nasty tongue. I intend the old lady no
harm, neither. What if she has a tenderness for me? I suppose that does
not make me a fool."
"To be sure, sir, I did not know your affection was serious." Harry
laughed disagreeably.
"I believe you would not miss a chance to say a bitter thing though it
ruined you, Lud, Harry, if you can't be grateful, don't be a fool too.
What a pox are your Wavertons to me? I don't value them a pinch of snuff.
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