"You know what I mean," she said, unmoved by the cunning of his speech.
"Yes, of course I can make allowances for you. You mean, I suppose, that as long as you know he's really after you and not your money you can despise public opinion; but naturally it must vex you to have the Count misjudged. Everybody will think Miss Wentstile hired him to marry you."
She parted her lips to speak, then restrained herself, and altered her manner. She turned at bay, but she adopted Jack's own tactics.
"You are right," she said. "I understand that the Count is only acting according to the standards he's been brought up to. May hasn't that consolation. I'm sure I don't see, if you don't mind my saying so, on what ground she is going to contrive any sort of an excuse for her husband."
"She'll undoubtedly be so fond of him," Jack retorted with unabashed good-nature, "that it won't occur to her that he needs an excuse. May hasn't your Puritanical notions, you know. Really, I might be afraid of her if she had."
It was a game in which the man is always the superior of the woman. Women will more cleverly and readily dissemble to the world, but to the loved one they are less easily mocking and insincere than men. Alice, however, was plucky, and she made one attempt more.
"Of course May might admire you on the score of filial obedience. It isn't every son who would allow his mother to arrange his marriage for him."
"No," Jack responded with a chuckle, "you're right there. I am a model son."
She stopped suddenly, and turned on the sidewalk in quick vehemence.
"Oh, stop talking to me!" she cried. "I will go into the first house I know if you keep on this way! You've no right to torment me so!"