"We do some very eccentric things in England, occasionally--but there is a limit to our national madness, Madame Pratolungo, and you have reached it.

Shall we have some music ?" She spoke a little sharply.

Mr.Dubourg was the hero of her romance.

She resented--seriously resented--any attempt on my part to lower him in her estimation.
I persisted in my unfavorable opinion of him, nevertheless.

The question between us (as I might have told her) was a question of believing, or not believing, in the merchant of London.