"
"Bourgeois," I observed, "is an epithet which the riffraff apply
to what is respectable, and the aristocracy to what is decent."
"But it's not a nice thing to be, all the same," said Dolly, who
is impervious to the most penetrating remark.
"You're in no danger of it," I hastened to assure her.
"How should you describe me, then?" she asked, leaning forward,
with a smile.
"I should describe you, Lady Mickleham," I replied discreetly,
"as being a little lower than the angels."
Dolly's smile was almost a laugh as she asked:
"How much lower, please, Mr. Carter?"
"Just by the depth of your dimples," said I thoughtlessly.
Dolly became immensely grave.
"I thought," said she, "that we never mentioned them now, Mr.
Carter."
"Did we ever?" I asked innocently.
"I seemed to remember once: do you recollect being in very low
spirits one evening at Monte?"
"I remember being in very low water more than one evening there."
"Yes; you told me you were terribly hard-up."
"There was an election in our division that year," I remarked,
"and I remitted 30 percent of my rents."
"You did--to M. Blanc," said Dolly. "Oh, and you were very
dreary! You said you'd wasted your life and your time and your
opportunities.
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