"I am sure I am right, mamma. He talks about her as fondly and
frequently and openly as a man might talk about his own daughter.
Besides, you can see that he is talking honestly. The man couldn't
deceive a child if he were to try. You see everything in his face."

"You seem to have been much interested in him," said Mrs. Kavanagh,
with no appearance of sarcasm.

"Well, I don't think I meet such men often, and that is the truth. Do
you?" This was carrying the war into the enemy's country.

"I like him very well," said Mrs. Kavanagh. "I think he is honest. I
do not think he dresses very carefully; and he is perhaps too intent
on convincing you that his opinions are right." "Well, for my part,"
said her daughter, with just the least tinge of warmth in her manner,
"I confess I like a man who has opinions, and who is not afraid to say
so. I don't find many who have. And for his dressing, one gets rather
tired of men who come to you every evening to impress you with
the excellence of their tailor. As if women were to be captured by
millinery! Don't we know the value of linen and woolen fabrics?"

"My dear child, you are throwing away your vexation on some one whom
I don't know. It isn't Mr. Lavender?" "Oh dear, no! He is not so
silly as that: he dresses well, but there is perfect freedom about
his dress. He is too much of an artist to sacrifice himself to his
clothes."

"I am glad you have a good word for him at last. I think you have been
rather hard on him since Mr. Ingram called; and that is the reason I