"They are probably bashful, as most of us are." "Bashful ?" she replied; "I like that, Master Frank.

Why, you are all a most intolerable set of conceited mortals! No, it is not that:--it is, because the `lords of creation' think us beneath the notice of their superior minds."-- And she tossed her little head proudly.
"Well, then," I said, "your duty is to draw us out.

Many men are diffident of speaking earnestly and showing their feelings, from the fear of being laughed at, or ridiculed, as solemn prigs and book-worms.
Ladies should think of this, and encourage us." "Yet, some of you," she replied, undauntedly, "are not so reticent and retiring.

There is Mr Mawley, for instance.

He always talks to me about literature and art, and politics, too--although I do not care much about _them_--just as if I were a man like himself, and blessed with the same understanding!" "Oh," said I, "the curate is usually fond of hearing himself talk!" "You need not abuse poor Mr Mawley," she said, laughing.