somehow regarded himself as lifted above possibilities of irritation. When one was strong, one was not irritable; and a union with a kind of goddess would of course be an element of strength. Lady Barb was a goddess still, and Jackson Lemon admired his wife as much as the day he led her to the altar; but I am not sure that he felt as strong.
"How do you know what people are?" he said in a moment. "You have seen so few; you are perpetually denying yourself. If you should leave New York to-morrow, you would know wonderfully little about it."
"It's all the same," said Lady Barb; "the people are all exactly alike."
"How can you tell? You never see them."
"Did n't I go out every night for the first two months we were here?"
"It was only to about a dozen houses,—always the same; people, moreover, you had already met in London. You have got no general impressions."
"That's just what I have got; I had them before I came. Every one is just the same; they have just the same names—just the same manners."
Again, for an instant, Jackson Lemon hesitated; then he said, in that apparently artless tone of which mention has already been made, and which he sometimes used in London during his wooing: "Don't you like it over here?"
Lady Barb raised her eyes from her book. "Did you expect me to like it?"
