"If you continue to dislike the idea, you'll probably manage to escape the reality," observed Adela, and her tone, for some reason or other—perhaps merely through natural championship of her sex—was rather cold and her manner stiff.
"Oh, some women are all right;" and Adela acknowledged the concession with a satirical bow. "Look here, can't you help?" he burst out. "Tell her what a brute he is."
"Oh, you do not understand women!"
"Well, then, I shall tell Dennison. He won't stand nonsense of that kind."
"You'll deserve horsewhipping if you do," remarked Adela.
"Then what am I to do?"
"Nothing. In fact, Mr. Loring, you have no genius for delicate operations."
"Of course I'm a fool."
Adela played with her pince-nez for a minute or two, put it on, looked at him, and then said, with just a touch of unwonted timidity in her voice,
"Anyhow, you happen to be a gentleman."