"Is it fair to answer one question with another?"
"It's said to be American. Didn't you know that?"
"No," said Loveland. "As you thought, I don't know much about Americans yet. I'm going over to the States to learn."
"The States! How English that sounds! We think we're all of America—all that's worth talking about in ordinary conversation. But, by the way, this isn't ordinary conversation, is it? It began with—something to be punished for, on your part; and a wish to punish on mine. It's gone on—because, being a writing person, I suppose, I'm always trying for new points of view, at any cost. You thought I'd taken your chair—as if it were a point of view. I believe you really did think that."
"I did," admitted Val.
"I wonder why? My aunt's name is on it."
"Oh," said Loveland.
"See," went on the girl, leaning forward, and displaying the label in the deck-steward's handwriting.
"I do see," said Val. "But that happens to be my name."
"Loveland?"