“Not in the least,” he protested. “You’re not suggesting, I hope, that there is any kindness in driving you to Norwich?”
“Why not?” she retorted. “What else can it be?”
“It is certainly pleasanter for me,” he pointed out, “to have you by my side than to go alone.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Why?” she demanded. “I am not good-looking. I am not agreeable. I am not amusing. If you are fond of gallivanting—well, I am sure that you have sense enough to know that it doesn’t appeal to me. How can I possibly, therefore, be of any interest to you?”
He smiled.
“You’re all there with the words,” he acknowledged. “I rather depend upon feelings. I only know that I feel it pleasanter to have you where you are than to be alone. As a matter of fact, there are several of those glib statements of yours I could quarrel with if I wished.”
“Well?”
“Your manner,” he admitted, “is rather difficult. No one could call you particularly amiable. As to not being attractive, however, I differ from you. I think if you took the slightest trouble about yourself—put your hat on straight, for instance, gathered up those wisps of hair, and indulged in a smile now and then—you would be distinctly good-looking.”
For a moment her frown seemed even a little more sullen than ever. There was a positive scowl upon her face, until to his amazement, she suddenly burst out laughing. He saw then that she had the whitest of teeth and the little flush of colour which had been gradually finding its way into her cheeks completely dispelled the sallowness of her complexion. Her eyes seemed to reflect her unexpectedly kindled sense of humour. She straightened her hat and felt her hair.