"Frightful," said Jane.
"Fresh, impudent—conceited. And he looks like a prize fighter."
"At some angles—yes," conceded Jane. "At others, he's almost handsome."
"The other day, when I called at the hospital and they wouldn't take my name in to you—" David broke off to vent his indignation—"Did you ever hear of such impertinence!"
"And you the governor-elect," laughed Jane. "Shall I tell you what Doctor Charlton said? He said that a governor was simply a public servant, and anything but a public representative—usually a public disgrace. He said that a servant's business was attending to his own job and not hanging round preventing his fellow servants from attending to their jobs."
"I knew he had low and vulgar views of public affairs," said David. "What I started to say was that I saw him talking to you that day, across the court, and you seemed to be enjoying his conversation."
"ENJOYING it? I love it," cried Jane. "He makes me laugh, he makes me cold with rage, he gives me a different sensation every time I see him."
"You LIKE—him?"
"Immensely. And I've never been so interested or so happy in my life." She looked steadily at him. "Nothing could induce me to give it up. I've put everything else out of my mind."
Since the dismal end of his adventure with Selma Gordon, David had become extremely wary in his dealings with the female sex. He never again would invite a refusal; he never again would put himself in a position where a woman might feel free to tell him her private opinion of him. He reflected upon Jane's words. They could have but the one meaning. Not so calmly as he would have liked, but without any embarrassing constraint, he said: