"And tell her all about yourself," continued Grant.
"My friend Josh, here," he explained to Margaret, "is one of those serious, absorbed men who concentrate entirely upon themselves. It isn't egotism; it's genius."
Craig was ruffled and showed it. He did not like persiflage; it seemed an assault upon dignity, and in those early days in Washington he was full of dignity and of determination to create a dignified impression. He reared haughtily and looked about with arrogant, disdainful eyes.
"Will you have tea?" said Miss Severence, as Arkwright moved away.
"No, thanks," replied Craig. "Tea's for the women and the children."
Miss Severence's expression made him still more uncomfortable. "Well," said she, "if you should feel dry as you tell me about yourself, there's whiskey over on that other table. A cigarette? No? I'm afraid I can't ask you to have a cigar—"
"And take off my coat, and put my feet up, and be at home!" said Craig. "I see you think I'm a boor."
"Don't you want people to think you a boor?" inquired she with ironic seriousness.
He looked at her sharply. "You're laughing at me," he said, calmly. "Now, wouldn't it be more ladylike for you to try to put me at my ease? I'm in your house, you know."
Miss Severence flushed. "I beg your pardon," she said. "I did not mean to offend."