constructed with a cast-iron mouth, and a neck of granite, and a
disposition like--like Mr. Pixley's. I imagine Mr. Pixley can be
excessively unpleasant when he tries. To me he is excessively
unpleasant even to think of, and without any exertion whatever on his
part."

"Yes. Mrs. Pixley would rather convey that impression. She is always
depressed and apprehensive-looking. But she is very fond of Margaret,
and that no doubt is why--But I suppose she really has no choice in
the matter, until she comes of age--"

"Mrs. Pixley?"

"Until Margaret comes into her own she is no doubt obliged to submit
to her guardian's views. It is difficult to imagine anyone not a
Pixley living in the Pixley atmosphere of their own free will. What is
the son like? I have only seen him once or twice. Does he take after
his father?"

"He's about twice as tall, and several times as wide in some respects,
I should say,--certainly in the matter of the enjoyment of life. He's
not bad-looking--in a kind of a way, you know,--that is, for those who
like that kind of looks,--a trifle fleshy perhaps. But he's a fair
dancer, and sings a song well, and can talk about nothing as nicely
as any man I ever met. It's an accomplishment I often envy."

"I wouldn't trouble about it, if I were you. There are things more
worth doing in the world. And that reminds me. We were talking of your
books. I've been wanting to tell you that your love-scenes are not
altogether to my liking. They are just a little--well, not quite--"