"Now I was worse than stupid—much worse," continued Elisabeth gravely; "but I never was actually stupid."
"Weren't you? Don't be too sure of that. I don't wish to hurt your feelings, sweetheart, or to make envious rents in your panoply of wisdom; but, do you know, you struck me now and again as being a shade—we will not say stupid, but dense?"
"When I thought you didn't like me because you went to Australia, you mean?"
"That was one of the occasions when your acumen seemed to be slightly at fault. And there were others."
Elisabeth looked thoughtful. "I really did think you didn't like me then."
"Denseness, my dear Elisabeth—distinct denseness. It would be gross flattery to call it by any other name."
"But you never told me you liked me."
"If I had, and you had then thought I did not, you would have been suffering from deafness, not denseness. You are confusing terms."
"Well, then, I'll give in and say I was dense. But I was worse than that: I was positively horrid as well."
"Not horrid, Betty; you couldn't be horrid if you tried. Perhaps you were a little hard on me; but it's all over and done with now, and you needn't bother yourself any more about it."