"But, my dear, as I tell you, I never take it. I prefer simple sugar and vinegar." "Sugar and vinegar! Why, Leander, I'm astonished! How very _bourgeois!_ You must really try to like my salad"--(spoken in a coaxing tone). "My dear, I _never_ try to like anything new. I am satisfied with my old tastes." "Well, Leander, I must say that is very ungracious and disobliging of you." "Why any more than for you to annoy me by forcing on me what I don't like?" "But you would like it, if you would only try. People never like olives till they have eaten three or four, and then they become passionately fond of them." "Then I think they are very silly to go through all that trouble, when there are enough things that they do like." "Now, Leander, I don't think that seems amiable or pleasant at all. I think we ought to try to accommodate ourselves to the tastes of our friends." "Then, my dear, suppose you try to like your salad with sugar and vinegar." "But it's so _gauche_ and unfashionable! Did you ever hear of a salad made with sugar and vinegar on a table in good society?" "My mother's table, I believe, was good society, and I learned to like it there. The truth is, Hero, for a sensible woman, you are too fond of mere fashionable and society notions." "Yes, you told me that last week, and I think it was very unjust,--_very unjust, indeed_"--(uttered with emphasis). "No more unjust than your telling me that I was dictatorial and obstinate." "Well, now, Leander, dear, you must confess that you are rather obstinate." "I don't see the proof." "You insist on your own ways and opinions so, heaven and earth won't turn you." "Do I insist on mine more than you on yours?" "Certainly, you do." "I don't think so." Hero casts up her eyes and repeats with expression,-- "Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us!" "Precisely," says Leander. "I would that prayer were answered in your case, my dear." "I think you take pleasure in provoking me," says the lady. "My dear, how silly and childish all this is!" says the gentleman. "Why can't we let each other alone?" "You began it." "No, my dear, begging your pardon, I did not." "Certainly, Leander, you did." Now a conversation of this kind may go on hour after hour, as long as the respective parties have breath and strength, both becoming secretly more and more "set in their way". On both sides is the consciousness that they might end it at once by a very simple concession.