"Our talking will not bother him. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life.
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