Nina flushed. "I don't know whether I could or not," she said. "I think there may be just as wonderful men over here as at home. I know there are some that are quite as brave."
Derby frowned. "Nina, Nina——"
But Nina did not even hear his interruption. "I wish you knew Don Giovanni, Jack," she said. "You would like Italians better, I think!"
"It is not that I think ill of Italians—quite the contrary; but—I should not like to think of your marrying Don Giovanni."
"And why shouldn't I?" The question came near to summing up the problem of her own meditations, and his opposition—with its carefully maintained impersonal quality—piqued her and made the smoldering consideration of marrying Giovanni suddenly flame into a definite intention.
"Well?" she repeated.
"Because I think American men make the best husbands."
Nina was brutal. "You say that because you are an American yourself!"
He let the injustice of her remark pass unnoticed. "I merely repeat," he said calmly, "that, married to the Marchese di Valdo, you would be a very unhappy woman. That is my straight opinion. If you don't like it, I can't help it."
"Why should I be unhappy?"