"
Mr. Fairlie shook the silver smelling-bottle at me playfully.
"You dear old Gilmore, how you do hate rank and family, don't you?
How you detest Glyde because he happens to be a baronet. What a
Radical you are--oh, dear me, what a Radical you are!"
A Radical!!! I could put up with a good deal of provocation, but,
after holding the soundest Conservative principles all my life, I
could NOT put up with being called a Radical. My blood boiled at
it--I started out of my chair--I was speechless with Indignation.
"Don't shake the room!" cried Mr. Fairlie--"for Heaven's sake
don't shake the room! Worthiest of all possible Gilmores, I meant
no offence. My own views are so extremely liberal that I think I
am a Radical myself. Yes. We are a pair of Radicals. Please
don't be angry. I can't quarrel--I haven't stamina enough. Shall
we drop the subject? Yes. Come and look at these sweet etchings.
Do let me teach you to understand the heavenly pearliness of these
lines. Do now, there's a good Gilmore!"
While he was maundering on in this way I was, fortunately for my
own self-respect, returning to my senses. When I spoke again I
was composed enough to treat his impertinence with the silent
contempt that it deserved.
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