"What is it?"

"I was wondering," said Mary, with a gasp, "whether they really
were unattached. I thought that perhaps you might...you
might..."

"It was very nice of you to think of me, Mary darling," said
Anne, smiling the tight cat's smile. "But as far as I'm
concerned, they are both entirely unattached."

"I'm very glad of that," said Mary, looking relieved. "We are
now confronted with the question: Which of the two?"

"I can give no advice. It's a matter for your taste."

"It's not a matter of my taste," Mary pronounced, "but of their
merits. We must weigh them and consider them carefully and
dispassionately."

"You must do the weighing yourself," said Anne; there was still
the trace of a smile at the corners of her mouth and round the
half-closed eyes. "I won't run the risk of advising you
wrongly."

"Gombauld has more talent," Mary began, "but he is less civilised
than Denis." Mary's pronunciation of "civilised" gave the word a
special and additional significance. She uttered it
meticulously, in the very front of her mouth, hissing delicately
on the opening sibilant. So few people were civilised, and they,
like the first-rate works of art, were mostly French.