“Insult you!” he repeated. “What’s this, Gina? Insult you! Why, my dear—”
“You think—” she began, but sobs choked her. “You’re laughing at me because I’m thirty-eight!”
“But I was not, Gina, my dear! Only it struck me comical for two old bodies like us to be courting.”
“I’m not courting!” she cried. “Don’t dare to say it! And I’m not old!”
“Of course, properly speaking, we’re not old,” said he. “But—”
“Every one else thinks I’m a young woman!” she sobbed.
“Don’t you believe it, my dear,” he said earnestly. “They may say so to your face, but behind your back no one would call a woman of thirty-eight—”
“Stop!” she cried hysterically. “Don’t call me a woman of thirty-eight again!”
He was very much distressed.
“Don’t be thinking I mean anything against your—your personal attractions,” he said. “You’re one of the neatest, best-looking women of your age—”