The admiral, I believe, occupies himself with his books, his butterflies, and his cruises." "A daughter.

She is cultured, you say?
Ah, if culture would only take beauty in hand! But always she selects the plainer of two women." Fitzgerald smiled inwardly.

"I have told you she is not plain." "Oh, beautiful," thoughtfully.

"Culture and beauty; I shall be pleased to observe." "H'm! If there is any marrow in your bones, my friend, you'll show more interest when you see her." This was thought, not spoken.
Fitzgerald wasn't going to rhapsodize over Miss Killigrew's charms.

It would have been not only incautious, but suspicious.