Ah! that makes you start--don't it?
But I have always observed that a mule is apt to remember only the horse side of his ancestry!" Whenever my pretty sister-in-law talks in this way I always try to forget that she came of a family far inferior to our own, the Razorbills.

Indeed, her people--of the Nonconformist stock--really had nothing but wealth and rectitude, and I think my brother Bob, in his genuine love for her, was willing to overlook the latter for the sake of the former.
My pretty sister-in-law's interest in my affairs always made me believe that she secretly worshiped me--although it was a fact, as will be seen in the progress of this story, that most women blushed on my addressing them.

I used to say it "was the reflection of my red hair on a transparent complexion," which was rather neat--wasn't it?
And subtle?
But then, I was always saying such subtle things.
"My dear Rose," I said, laying down my egg spoon (the egg spoon really had nothing to do with this speech, but it imparted such a delightfully realistic flavor to the scene), "I'm not to blame if I resemble the S'helpburgs." "It's your being so beastly proud of it that I object to!" she replied.
"And for Heaven's sake, try to BE something, and not merely resemble things! The fact is you resemble too much--you're ALWAYS resembling.
You resemble a man of fashion, and you're not; a wit, and you're not; a soldier, a sportsman, a hero--and you're none of 'em.

Altogether, you're not in the least convincing.

Now, listen! There's a good chance for you to go as our attache with Lord Mumblepeg, the new Ambassador to Cochin China.