“You know perfectly well what I mean,” he said huskily.
“I don’t.”
“Well, you ought to!”
“But I don’t at all!”
George, thoroughly hurt, and not a little embittered, expressed himself in a short outburst of laughter: “Well, I ought to have seen it!”
“Seen what?”
“That you might turn out to be a girl who’d like a fellow of the red-headed Kinney sort. I ought to have seen it from the first!”
Lucy bore her disgrace lightly. “Oh, dancing a cotillion with a person doesn’t mean that you like him—but I don’t see anything in particular the matter with Mr. Kinney. What is?”
“If you don’t see anything the matter with him for yourself,” George responded, icily, “I don’t think pointing it out would help you. You probably wouldn’t understand.”
“You might try,” she suggested. “Of course I’m a stranger here, and if people have done anything wrong or have something unpleasant about them, I wouldn’t have any way of knowing it, just at first. If poor Mr. Kinney—”