"A woman always hates a man when he tells her the truth," he retorted. "She has a taste for sweets and prefers falsehood."
"It may be the truth as you have seen it," she answered, "but that after all is a very small part of the whole."
"It's big enough at least to be unpleasant."
"Well, it's your personal idea of the truth, all the same," she insisted, "and you can't make it universal. It isn't Gerty's for instance."
"You think not?" he made a face of playful astonishment. "Well, how about its hitting off our friend Perry?"
"Perry!" she replied disdainfully. "Do you know if he weren't so simple, I'd detest him."
"But why?" His eyebrows were still elevated.
"Because he thinks of nothing under the sun but the sensations of his great big body."
"Well, that may not be magnificent," he paraphrased gayly, "but it is man."
"Then, thank heaven, it isn't woman!" she exclaimed.