There was undoubtedly something of "the good fellow," and,
through all her hard hitting, a curious absence--in conversation--of the
personal egotism she was quite ready to show in all the trifles of life.
On the present occasion her main object clearly was to bring out Arthur
Meadows--the new captive of her bow and spear; to find out what was in
him; to see if he was worthy of her inner circle. Throwing all
compliment aside, she attacked him hotly on certain statements--certain
estimates--in his lectures. Her knowledge was personal; the knowledge of
one whose father had sat in Dizzy's latest Cabinet, while, through the
endless cousinship of the English landed families, she was as much
related to the Whig as to the Tory leaders of the past. She talked
familiarly of "Uncle This" or "Cousin That," who had been apparently the
idols of her nursery before they had become the heroes of England; and
Meadows had much ado to defend himself against her store of anecdote and
reminiscence. "Unfair!" thought Doris, breathlessly watching the contest
of wits.
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