‘This is interesting and romantic,’ said Miss Marjory, fanning herself gently. ‘I will tackle this fascinating Italian, and see if I cannot pluck out the heart of his mystery.’ ‘I wish you could,’ said Tor. ‘Does he speak English?’ ‘No; only Italian and French, so far as I know.’ ‘Well, well, I am old-fashioned enough to speak Italian. When I was young, it was the fashion to learn only a few things, and those well. Girls were not encouraged then to dabble in science and metaphysics, and play at atheism and agnosticism when they should be practising their scales and learning their catechism. We were not at all learned young ladies in my day. We didn’t look down on our parents, sneer at the clergy, or aspire to the “higher culture” and “higher morality,” or whatever their new-fangled jargon may be; but we were taught how to behave ourselves in the company of our elders, we did not lounge or yawn when obliged to listen to conversation rather above our heads, nor did we interrupt our betters or interfere whenever we happened to disagree. We did not talk big about universal equality or socialistic philanthropy, but I flatter myself we understood our duty to our neighbour better than this generation understands it. And I venture to say I can talk Italian against any modern young lady extant, however learned she may be.’ Once get Miss Marjory upon any of her pet themes, and she was certain to wax eloquent. Tor was quite content to listen, and the late experiences he had had of nineteenth-century culture inclined him to agree with Miss Marjory’s view of the case. Men are proverbially averse to the higher education of women. ‘Well, Miss Marjory,’ said Tor, ‘you will have that opportunity to-night; for I have asked Signor Pagliadini to dine here, and you will be able to tackle him to your heart’s content.’ ‘To dine here!’ echoed Miss Marjory. ‘Why, I thought you were sworn foes.’ ‘Not at all; we are nominally on excellent terms. In public he has not said one unpleasant word. It is in a private interview that he was so disagreeable. Whatever his motive is, he does not wish to drive me to strong measures. I believe I shall have fair warning if he makes up his mind to attack me.’ ‘I will tackle him,’ said Miss Marjory, with a certain satisfaction in her tone. ‘I flatter myself I shall be able to discover who he is and what he wants.’ Tor was quite of the same opinion. He believed that Miss Marjory could do anything she had a mind to, and was content to hand over Signor Pagliadini to her tender mercies, to be turned inside out, or submitted to any other process that might seem good to her. ‘My sister and my aunt do not understand Italian,’ he went on to say, ‘so that they will not be a bit the wiser for any conversation which they may overhear.’ ‘Ah, perhaps that is as well,’ said Miss Marjory.