"Is it the barbarism of a gentleman," Amory had once propounded, "or is it the gentleman-like manners of a barbarian which makes both enjoy over-stepping a prohibition ?" "I compliment you," St.George said gravely, with his deferential stooping of the shoulders.

"The women are perfectly trained.

This, of course, is due to you." The hard face of the woman softened, but St.George thought that one might call her very facial expression nasal; she smiled with evident pleasure, though her purpose remained unshaken.
"They do pretty good," she admitted, "but visitors ain't best for 'em.

I'll have to request you"-- St.George vaguely wished that she would say "ask"-- "not to talk to any of 'em." St.George bowed.
"It is a great privilege," he said warmly if a bit incoherently, and held her in talk about an institution of the sort in Canada where the women inmates wore white, the managers claiming that the effect upon their conduct was perceptible, that they were far more self-respecting, and so on in a labyrinth of defensive detail.

"What do you think of the idea ?" he concluded anxiously, manfully holding his ground in the aisle.
"I think it's mostly nonsense," returned the woman tartly, "a big expense and a sight of work for nothing.