“Is the book so bad that you would not have anyone see it?” he teased her as she declined to show it to him.
“No, it’s a good book,”—still holding it behind her as if to prevent him from seizing it.
“By whom was it written?”
She shook her head negatively, a faint smile in her eyes.
“What’s the name?”
Her head again shook from side to side.
“What’s it about?”
“You are too young to know.” She laughed softly, her eyes contracting.
“Let’s talk of something more interesting—Rudolph, for instance.”
(Rudolph was one of the young men of whom Albert was jealous.)