sixty-five."

They were now in front of the stationer's show-window, and there were few
people in the quiet thoroughfare to jostle them.

Medora smiled.

"How clever; how charming!" she said. "Leaving you altogether free to pick
your own age. I hope you didn't go beyond thirty-five. You must have been
quite charming in your early thirties."

"That's kind of you, I'm sure; but I don't believe that I was ever
'charming' at _any_ age. I think you've used that word once too often.
I was a quiet, studious lad, with nice notions, but possibly something of a
prig. I was less 'charming' than correct. The young ladies had the greatest
confidence in me,--not one of them was ever 'afraid'."

"Why, how horrid! How utterly unsatisfactory! Nor their mothers?"

"No. And I'm still single, as you're advised. And I'm not sure that the
young gentlemen cared much more for me. If I had had a little more 'gimp'
and _verve_, I might have equalled the particular young gentleman of
whom we have been discoursing. But...."

His obviously artificial style of speech concealed, as she guessed, some
real feeling.

"Oh, if you insist on disparaging yourself...!"

"I was quite as coolly correct as I apprehend him to be; and if I could