"Well?" he said politely.
"I was thinking——" she said lamely.
"Obviously."
"That it was rather queer—that I should tell you all this, when I couldn't even tell Elsbeth."
"Don't you think it's often easier to talk to strangers? One's personality can make its own impression—it has no preconception to fight against."
"Yes. But I hate strangers, till they've stopped being strange. And, you know"—she hesitated—"I haven't really liked you. Have you noticed it?"
"In streaks," he admitted. "But why?"
"You patronise so!" she flared. "You make me feel a fool. This afternoon——Of course, it's quite true that I don't know much about men. I suppose you knew I was—inexperienced; but you needn't have rubbed it in. And you've always talked down to me."
"I don't think I did," he considered the matter unsmiling. "I think it's rather the other way—the tilt of your nose disturbs my complacence. You listen to me at meals like Disapproval incarnate. You make me nervous."
"Do I?" she asked delightedly.