"Three-and-twenty last birthday."

"A mighty difference indeed!"

"Not much--only all the difference, it seems, between sense and
absurdity, George."

"That may be all very true of a fine gentleman, like Helmer, that
does nothing from morning to night but run away from his mother;
but you don't think it applies to me, Mary, I hope!"

"That's as you behave yourself, George. If you do not make it
apply, it won't apply of itself. But if young women had not more
sense than most of the young men I see in the shop--on both sides
of the counter, George--things would soon be at a fine pass.
Nothing better in your head than in a peacock's!--only that a
peacock _has_ the fine feathers he's so proud of."

"If it were Mr. Wardour now, Mary, that was spreading his tail
for you to see, you would not complain of that peacock!"

A vivid rose blossomed instantly in Mary's cheek. Mr. Wardour was
not even an acquaintance of hers. He was cousin and friend to
Letty Lovel, indeed, but she had never spoken to him, except in
the shop.

"It would not be quite out of place if you were to learn a little
respect for your superiors, George," she returned. "Mr. Wardour
is not to be thought of in the same moment with the young men