He felt what she was thinking--how common this was, how "middle class," how "bourgeois," she was calling it.
"Bourgeois" was her favorite word for all that she objected to in him, for all she was trying to train out of him by what she regarded as most artistically indirect lessons.

He felt that their talk about his family, what he had said, had shown he felt, was recurring to her.

He grew red, burned with shame from head to foot.
"What a fool, what a pup I was!" he said to himself.

"If she had been a real lady--no, by gad--a real WOMAN--she'd have shown that she despised me." Again and again that incident had come back to him.

It had been, perhaps, the most powerful factor in his patience with her airs and condescensions.