He was in that rare and blissful state wherein a man sees his dreams stalk out from the crannies of fantasy and become fact.
Never had he been at such an altitude of living, and he kept himself in the background, listening, observing, and pleasuring, replying in reticent monosyllables, saying, "Yes, miss," and "No, miss," to her, and "Yes, ma'am," and "No, ma'am," to her mother.

He curbed the impulse, arising out of his sea-training, to say "Yes, sir," and "No, sir," to her brothers.

He felt that it would be inappropriate and a confession of inferiority on his part--which would never do if he was to win to her.
Also, it was a dictate of his pride.

"By God!" he cried to himself, once; "I'm just as good as them, and if they do know lots that I don't, I could learn 'm a few myself, all the same!" And the next moment, when she or her mother addressed him as "Mr.Eden," his aggressive pride was forgotten, and he was glowing and warm with delight.

He was a civilized man, that was what he was, shoulder to shoulder, at dinner, with people he had read about in books.