"Don't you think we might be silent for a time, Alexander," she said.
Momma does call him Alexander sometimes.

I didn't like to mention it before, but it can't be concealed for ever.

She says it's because Joshua always costs her an effort, and every woman ought to have the right to name her own husband.
"Let us offer to all this genius," she continued, indicating it, "the tribute of sealing our lips." The Senator will always oblige.

"Mine are sealed, Augusta," he replied, and so we sat in silence for the next ten minutes.

But I could see by his expression, in connection with the angle at which his hat was tipped, that he was comparing the productions before him with the future old masters of Chicago, and wishing it were possible to live long enough to back Chicago.
"How they do sink in!" said momma at last.