modesty? He knew better. It was a vile pseudo sentiment—the offspring or the forerunner of evil. Rather than submit to this mopping and mowing, this mincing and grimacing, this grinding of a noble tongue, this general affectation and sickening stubbornness of the pupils of the first class, he would throw them up for a set of insupportable petites maitresses, and confine himself to teaching the A B C to the babies of the third division."
What could I say to all this? Really nothing; and I hoped he would allow me to be silent. The storm recommenced.
"Every answer to his queries was then refused? It seemed to be considered in that place—that conceited boudoir of a first class, with its pretentious book-cases, its green-baized desks, its rubbish of flower-stands, its trash of framed pictures and maps, and its foreign surveillante, forsooth!—it seemed to be the fashion to think there that the Professor of Literature was not worthy of a reply! These were new ideas; imported, he did not doubt, straight from 'la Grande Bretaigne': they savoured of island insolence and arrogance."
Lull the second—the girls, not one of whom
