The very sound of his name was revolting to his amiable sister: it reminded her of that humiliating sense, known in society as a sense of gratitude.
Carmina was still waiting--and there was nothing further to be gained by returning to the subject of her mother with such a man as Benjulia.

Ovid held out his hand to say good-bye.
Taking the offered hand readily enough, the doctor repeated his odd question--"I haven't been rude, have I ?"--with an unpleasant appearance of going through a form purely for form's sake.

Ovid's natural generosity of feeling urged him to meet the advance, strangely as it had been made, with a friendly reception.
"I am afraid it is I who have been rude," he said.

"Will you go back with me, and be introduced to Carmina ?" Benjulia made his acknowledgments in his own remarkable way.

"No, thank you," he said, quietly, "I'd rather see the monkey.".