She was even a little out of
countenance, but not so much so as Cashel, who nevertheless could
not take his eyes away.
"Do you think," said Alice, as they crossed the orchard, "that that
man is a gentleman?"
"How can I possibly tell? We hardly know him."
"But what do you think? There is always a certain something about a
gentleman that one recognizes by instinct."
"Is there? I have never observed it."
"Have you not?" said Alice, surprised, and beginning uneasily to
fear that her superior perception of gentility was in some way the
effect of her social inferiority to Miss Carew. "I thought one could
always tell."
"Perhaps so," said Lydia. "For my own part I have found the same
varieties of address in every class. Some people enjoy a native
distinction and grace of manner--"
"That is what I mean," said Alice.
"--but they are seldom ladies and gentlemen; often actors, gypsies,
and Celtic or foreign peasants. Undoubtedly one can make a fair
guess, but not in the case of this Mr. Cashel Byron. Are you curious
about him?"
"I!" exclaimed Alice, superbly. "Not in the least."
"I am. He interests me. I seldom see anything novel in humanity; and
he is a very singular man."
"I meant," said Alice, crestfallen, "that I take no special interest
in him.
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