Her eyes swept his with a sweet, half-playful defiance.
“Don’t be personal.”
“But you were. And, after the other day—your declaration of contentment.”
“Everything is comparative. I was generalizing. I hate people who talk about themselves,” Hilda added; “it’s the worst kind of immodesty. Material and mental braggarts are far more endurable than the people who go round telling about their souls.”
“Severe, rigid child!” Odd laughed, and, after a little pause, laughed again. “You are horribly reserved, Hilda.”
“Very sage when one has nothing to show. Silence covers such a multitude of sins. If one is consistently silent, people may even imagine that one isn’t dull,” said Hilda maliciously.
“You are dull and silent, then?”
“I have few opinions; that is, perhaps, dulness.”
“It may be a very wide cleverness.”
“Yes; it may be. Now, Mr. Odd, the next waltz is yours too, you know. You have quite a cluster here. Let us sit out the next. I should like an ice.”