Page 180 - the-portrait-of-a-lady

‘Yes; I don’t suppose any one ever said such a thing to you
before, did they? I don’t approve of lords as an institution. I
think the world has got beyond them—far beyond.’
‘Oh, so do I. I don’t approve of myself in the least. Some-
times it comes over me—how I should object to myself if I
were not myself, don’t you know? But that’s rather good, by
the way—not to be vainglorious.’
‘Why don’t you give it up then?’ Miss Stackpole en-
quired.
‘Give up—a-?’ asked Lord Warburton, meeting her harsh
inflexion with a very mellow one.
‘Give up being a lord.’
‘Oh, I’m so little of one! One would really forget all about
it if you wretched Americans were not constantly remind-
ing one. However, I do think of giving it up, the little there
is left of it, one of these days.’
‘I should like to see you do it!’ Henrietta exclaimed rath-
er grimly.
‘I’ll invite you to the ceremony; we’ll have a supper and
a dance.’
‘Well,’ said Miss Stackpole, ‘I like to see all sides. I don’t
approve of a privileged class, but I like to hear what they
have to say for themselves.’
‘Mighty little, as you see!’
‘I should like to draw you out a little more,’ Henrietta
continued. ‘But you’re always looking away. You’re afraid of
meeting my eye. I see you want to escape me.’
‘No, I’m only looking for those despised potatoes.’
‘Please explain about that young lady—your sister—then.

180 The Portrait of a Lady