"Why, Kitty! don't you think he's refined? I'm sure, I think he's a _very_ refined person." "He's a very elaborated person. But I don't think it would make much difference to him what our opinion of him was. His own good opinion would be quite enough." "Is he--is he--always agreeable?" "I thought we were discussing his mind, Fanny. I don't know that I feel like enlarging upon his manners," said Kitty, slyly. "But surely, Kitty," said the matron, with an air of argument, "there's some connection between his mind and his manners." "Yes, I suppose so. I don't think there's much between his heart and his manners. They seem to have been put on him instead of having come out of him. He's very well trained, and nine times out of ten he's so exquisitely polite that it's wonderful; but the tenth time he may say something so rude that you can't believe it." "Then you like him nine times out of ten." "I didn't say that. But for the tenth time, it's certain, his training doesn't hold out, and he seems to have nothing natural to fall back upon. But you can believe that, if he knew he'd been disagreeable, he'd be sorry for it." "Why, then, Kitty, how can you say that there's no connection between his heart and manners? This very thing proves that they come from his heart. Don't be illogical, Kitty," said Mrs. Ellison, and her nerves added, _sotto voce_, "if you _are_ so abominably provoking!" "O," responded the young girl, with the kind of laugh that meant it was, after all, not such a laughing matter, "I didn't say he'd be sorry for _you_! Perhaps he would; but he'd be certain to be sorry for himself. It's with his politeness as it is with his reading; he seems to consider it something that's due to himself as a gentleman to treat people well; and it isn't in the least as if he cared for _them_. He wouldn't like to fail in such a point." "But, Kitty, isn't that to his credit?" "Maybe. I don't say. If I knew more about the world, perhaps I should admire it. But now, you see,"--and here Kitty's laugh grew more natural, and she gave a subtle caricature of Mr. Arbuton's air and tone as she spoke,--"I can't help feeling that it's a little--vulgar." Mrs. Ellison could not quite make out how much Kitty really meant of what she had said. She gasped once or twice for argument; then she sat up, and beat the sofa-pillows vengefully in composing herself anew, and finally, "Well, Kitty, I'm sure I don't know what to make of it all," she said with a sigh.