"You should n't speak of yourself as if you were not clever," said Mrs.
Vivian. "Every one says you are so very clever."

Longueville stared; there was an unexpectedness in the speech and an
incongruity in Mrs. Vivian's beginning to flatter him. He needed
to remind himself that if she was a Bostonian, she was a Bostonian
perverted.

"Ah, my dear madam, every one is no one," he said, laughing.

"It was Mr. Wright, in particular," she rejoined. "He has always told us
that."

"He is blinded by friendship."

"Ah yes, we know about your friendship," said Mrs. Vivian. "He has told
us about that."

"You are making him out a terrible talker!"

"We think he talks so well--we are so very fond of his conversation."

"It 's usually excellent," said Bernard. "But it depends a good deal on
the subject."

"Oh," rejoined Mrs. Vivian, "we always let him choose his subjects." And
dropping her eyes as if in sudden reflection, she began to smooth down
the crumpled corner of her volume.