"No: of those of my neighbors."
"Of omission, or commission?" he asked, looking at her closely.
"Both," she returned, flushing a little. "I was lonesome, of course. You wouldn't like to stay at home alone all day."
"On the contrary," he said, "there are few things I like better. It is strange how a woman is never good company for herself. She can never keep still and think, but must always be rattling away to somebody."
"You think so because you don't know."
"My observation has not been very extensive, perhaps; but it has been all in one direction. Men are content enough to be alone."
"It is all the conceit of the men," she retorted. "You all fancy you are never in so good company as when alone."
"Unless we are favored by some one of your sex."
"Nonsense! You don't think so. What a man finds to say to himself, I cannot imagine; unless, indeed, his mind is one grand vacuum."
"The wisdom of a man's reflections must always be beyond a woman's comprehension," he returned. "Some men have made great mistakes by forgetting this."