"Give up the Contessa!" echoed the Boy. "What do I want with the Contessa! I'm sick of the sight of her."
"Since when?"
"Since the first day we met. I don't think she's even pretty. What you can see in her, I don't know—the silly little giggling thing! There, it's out at last."
"What I see in her?" I repeated. "I like that."
"I always supposed you did. But I can't stand her."
"Well, of all the–– Look here, why have you been hanging after her, if you––"
"I didn't. I just wasn't going to let you make a fool of yourself over her, and then regret it afterwards. So I—I did my best to take her attention away from you, and I succeeded fairly well. It—vexed me to see you falling in love with her. She wasn't worth it."
"There was never the remotest chance of my doing so."
"You said there was."
"I was chaffing, just to hear myself talk. I should have thought you would know that."