“Oh yes; I remember that very well,” said Decourcy, quietly; “but I rather fancied, from certain signs, that that was mostly due to his being at odds with you, in some way. Yes,” he went on, looking faintly amused at the reminiscence, “he evidently intended to annihilate me, but when he saw that he had better not think of it, I must say he gave up with a good grace, and since then he has done everything in his power to manifest an intention to be civil. In this condition of affairs, I find him a very likeable, intelligent fellow.” “And you bear him no grudge for the manner in which he treated you?” “My dear Daisy! what’s the use of bearing grudges? Life is much too short. And besides, a great many people are like that.” “What sort of people? Vulgar people and ignorant people, I suppose!” “Well, not necessarily. I have often seen such conduct from people whom I could not, on the whole, call either ignorant or vulgar. It seems to be the instinct with some men to consider every stranger a blackguard, until he has proved himself not to be one.” “It is abominable,” said Margaret; “perfectly barbarous! Such people have no right to claim to be civilized.” “In point of fact, it is only a very small class, my dear, who can justly lay claim to that estate. I understand your feeling. How it carries me back! I used to feel much as you do, before I went out into the world.” “I should think a knowledge of the world would make one more fastidious instead of less so,” said Margaret, sturdily. “I think you are wrong in that. One learns to take things as they come, and loses the notion of having all things exactly to one’s taste.” “But surely such flagrant impoliteness as Mr. Gaston’s would be condemned anywhere,” said Margaret. “You should have seen his treatment of Major King.” She then proceeded to give a spirited account of that episode, to her cousin’s manifest interest and amusement. “And how your hot Southern blood did tingle!” he commented, as she ended her recital. “You felt as if a crime had been committed in your sight, which it was your sacred duty to avenge--did you not? I had such feelings once myself, and perhaps, in both our cases, they may be traced to the same cause. Constant observation of such a model as your father presents would put most of the world at a disadvantage. There is a fineness of grain in him that one meets with but rarely anywhere. With him the feeling is that every man must be regarded and treated as a gentleman, until he has proved himself not to be one. It is a better way. But I think, after all, Margaret, that absolute good-breeding is a thing we must look for in individuals, and not in classes. It certainly does not exist in any class with which I have been thrown, and I cannot quite see how it could, as long as our social system of standards and rewards remains what it is. Do you remember a clever squib in _Punch, àpropos_ of all this?” Margaret shook her head. “I very rarely see _Punch_,” she said.