"Surely not. You cannot make me believe that a detective could come in here, look me over, and then tell everything about me almost to my name and the hour of my birth. Rubbish!"
Frank's wonder at the girl was on the increase. She did not talk much like the ordinary girl of seventeen.
"If you dislike the stories so much how does it happen you are reading them?"
"Oh, I do not dislike them. I confess that I found them very amusing, but I am beginning to weary of them."
"I consider it remarkable that you attempted reading them."
"Why?"
"Young ladies like you seldom care for this kind of literature."
"Oh, I see. I presume not. They are too sentimental—soft, some call it. Well, I am not sentimental."
"Perhaps not."
She lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips a bit.