He knew that she was reflecting that there was no one else who could tell her; and he did not like it.
"No," he answered readily.
"And what was the difference ?" She looked straight in front of her with a strange old-fashioned demureness.
"Their name is legion, for they are many." "Name a few.

Was I as good-looking as that, for instance ?" He smiled--a wise, old, woman-searching smile.
"You were better-looking than that," he said, with a glance beneath his lashless lids.

"Moreover, there was more of the grand lady about you.
You behaved better.

There was less shaking hands with your partners, less nodding and becking, and none of that modern forwardness which is called, I believe, camaraderie." "Thank you, Sir John," she answered, looking at him frankly with a pleasant smile.

"But it is probable that we had the faults of our age." He fumbled at his lips, having reasons of his own for disliking too close a scrutiny of his face.
"That is more than probable," he answered, rather indistinctly.
"Then," she said, tapping the back of his gloved hand with her fan, "we ought to be merciful to the faults of a succeeding generation.