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Rh then—always an easy matter with me—and my manners along with it, and threw a thin little book at him, and it just shaved his nose.

He looked up and said, "Don't do that again, Nell!" And his cold voice so provoked me that I threw another one, and could have wept for shame when it struck his newspaper, and then fell down beside the first; for he neither spoke, nor moved, nor looked at me.

How different a man is to quarrel with to a woman! Now, if I were falling out with the latter, she would be so amazed at my holding my tongue, instead of going at her hammer and tongs, that she would be thoroughly nonplussed, and suspect me of possessing some weapon against her of which she knew nothing; in short, to thoroughly rout and overcome a female opponent, nothing answers like a stolid silence, whereas a man considers a woman who holds her tongue instead of storming at him, a good, sensible little soul, worthy of his best consideration. Therefore I am harassed by fears that he will think I am meek and sorry; and, indeed, I am neither.

I always thought men remained on their knees until they married. I know a good many of them hop up pretty quickly afterwards, for the cold plunge of matrimony once taken, they have an awkward knack of remembering Byron's words,—

but I never heard before of a lover behaving as Paul is doing.

In novels, if Amanda is offended with her Adolphus (although she may be entirely in the wrong), Adolphus always tears his hair, and beats his breast, and does everything but walk on his head to restore serenity to her ruffled brow. I am sure George would never have sat in my presence mute as a fish for five whole minutes. I wonder if I should have cared so intensely if he had? not that I do care much.