“I haven’t,” George said, too anxious to keep in character. “I don’t like women as a rule. But you’re different.”
“Am I?” There was a slight note of interest in her voice. “What do you mean?”
George hesitated. What exactly did he mean? He wasn’t sure himself. She was beautiful, of course. But was that all that mattered so much to him? He didn’t think so. There was something else. There was something strong about her, independent; she was someone he could rely on.
“I think you’re wonderful,” he said slowly. “You’re the most astonishing person I have ever met.”
“Don’t be a fool,” she said, almost gently. “Of course I’m not.”
Encouraged by her tone, George said, “But you are. You’re lovely. You’re so independent and headstrong. You know your own mind. You—you’re interesting.”
She lay silent for a long time. George wondered uneasily if he had offended her. Then she said, “You’re not falling in love with me, are you?”
George clenched his fists. In love with her? He was mad about her!
“Oh yes,” he said. “I’m in love with you. The moment I saw you…”
“Men are fools, aren’t they?” she said in a confidential tone, as if she was speaking to another woman “The men who have said that to me! Hundreds of them!”