"Nothing so particular as Mr. Johnson, perhaps."
Miss Blunt has a very pretty affectation of being more matter-of-fact than she really is.
"His rights, then," said she, "are paramount to yours."
"Ah, you admit that he has rights?"
"Not at all. I simply assert that you have none."
"I beg your pardon. I have claims which I mean to enforce. I have a claim upon your undivided attention, when I pay you a morning call."
"Your claim is certainly answered. Have I been uncivil, pray?"
"Not uncivil, perhaps, but inconsiderate. You have been sighing for the company of a third person, which you can't expect me to relish."
"Why not, pray? If I, a lady, can put up with Mr. Johnson's society, why shouldn't you, one of his own sex?"
"Because he is so outrageously conceited. You, as a lady, or at any rate as a woman, like conceited men."
"Ah, yes; I have no doubt that I, as a woman, have all kinds of improper tastes. That's an old story."
"Admit, at any rate, that our friend is conceited."
"Admit it? Why, I have said so a hundred times. I have told him so."
