She hates me just as much." "Well, you've never been nice to her, Adelaide." "I should think not." "She's not as bad as you think," said Mr.Lanley, who believed in old-fashioned loyalty.
"I can't bear her," said Adelaide.
"Why not ?" As far as his feelings went, this seemed a perfectly safe question; but it wasn't.
"Because she tries so hard to make you ridiculous.

Oh, not intentionally; but she talks of you as if you were a _Don Juan_ of twenty-five.

You ought to be flattered, Papa dear, at having jealous scenes made about you when you are--what is it ?--sixty-five." "Four," said Mr.Lanley.
"Yes; such a morning as I had! Not a minute with poor Vincent because you had had Mrs.Wayne to dine.

I'm not complaining, but I don't like my father represented as a sort of comic-paper old man, you poor dear,"-- and she laid her long, gloved hand on his knee,--"who have always been so conspicuously dignified." "If I have," said her father, "I don't know that anything she says can change it." "No, of course; only it was horrible to me to hear her describing you in the grip of a boyish passion.

But don't let's talk of it.