'They have excellent reason to be so, ma'am,' said Martin. 'I never was
so much surprised in all my life.'
'Our institutions make our people smart much, sir,' Mrs Hominy remarked.
'The most short-sighted man could see that at a glance, with his naked
eye,' said Martin.
Mrs Hominy was a philosopher and an authoress, and consequently had a
pretty strong digestion; but this coarse, this indecorous phrase,
was almost too much for her. For a gentleman sitting alone with a
lady--although the door WAS open--to talk about a naked eye!
A long interval elapsed before even she--woman of masculine and towering
intellect though she was--could call up fortitude enough to resume the
conversation. But Mrs Hominy was a traveller. Mrs Hominy was a writer
of reviews and analytical disquisitions. Mrs Hominy had had her letters
from abroad, beginning 'My ever dearest blank,' and signed 'The Mother
of the Modern Gracchi' (meaning the married Miss Hominy), regularly
printed in a public journal, with all the indignation in capitals, and
all the sarcasm in italics. Mrs Hominy had looked on foreign countries
with the eye of a perfect republican hot from the model oven; and Mrs
Hominy could talk (or write) about them by the hour together.
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