seem formidable. If I had ever met the giant Cormoran, I should have made a point of agreeing with him in his literary opinions."
Esther had that excellent thing in woman, a soft voice with a clear fluent utterance. Her sauciness was always charming, because it was without emphasis, and was accompanied with graceful little turns of the head.
Felix laughed at her thrust with young heartiness.
"My daughter is a critic of words, Mr Holt," said the minister, smiling complacently, "and often corrects mine on the ground of niceties, which I profess are as dark to me as if they were the reports of a sixth sense which I possess not. I am an eager seeker for precision, and would fain find language subtle enough to follow the utmost intricacies of the soul's pathways, but I see not why a round word that means some object, made and blessed by the Creator, should be branded and banished as a malefactor."
"O, your niceties—I know what they are," said Felix, in his usual fortissimo. "They all go on your system of make-believe. 'Rottenness' may suggest what is unpleasant, so you'd better say 'sugar-plums,' or something else such a long way off the, fact that nobody is obliged to think of it.
