exquisitely polite that it's wonderful; but the tenth time he may say
something so rude that you can't believe it."

"Then you like him nine times out of ten."

"I didn't say that. But for the tenth time, it's certain, his training
doesn't hold out, and he seems to have nothing natural to fall back
upon. But you can believe that, if he knew he'd been disagreeable, he'd
be sorry for it."

"Why, then, Kitty, how can you say that there's no connection between
his heart and manners? This very thing proves that they come from his
heart. Don't be illogical, Kitty," said Mrs. Ellison, and her nerves
added, _sotto voce_, "if you _are_ so abominably provoking!"

"O," responded the young girl, with the kind of laugh that meant it was,
after all, not such a laughing matter, "I didn't say he'd be sorry for
_you_! Perhaps he would; but he'd be certain to be sorry for himself.
It's with his politeness as it is with his reading; he seems to consider
it something that's due to himself as a gentleman to treat people well;
and it isn't in the least as if he cared for _them_. He wouldn't like to
fail in such a point."

"But, Kitty, isn't that to his credit?"

"Maybe. I don't say. If I knew more about the world, perhaps I should
admire it. But now, you see,"--and here Kitty's laugh grew more natural,
and she gave a subtle caricature of Mr. Arbuton's air and tone as she
spoke,--"I can't help feeling that it's a little--vulgar."