I must plead guilty to feeling piqued. That she should be so much in my mind and that I should occupy so small a place in hers not only disappointed but annoyed me. I said to myself, “Oh, well, if she cares so little there is no reason why I should care more.” Aloud I made it: “Please don’t bother about it. One of these days the recollection will come back to you of its own accord.”
“Yes; I dare say.” She went on without transition, “Whom did your brother marry?”
I told her.
“He wasn’t like everybody else,” she pursued. “I wonder—I wonder if you are?”
“Wouldn’t that depend on what you mean by being like everybody else? I don’t know that I get your standard.”
“Oh, men are so much alike. There’s no more difference between them than between so many beans in a bottle.”
“I don’t see that. To my mind they’re all distinct from one another.”
“In little ways, yes. But when it comes to the big ways—”
“What are the big ways?”