"It is very near the truth," Guido admitted, very much amused.
"I do not blame you," said Cecilia. "How could you suppose that a mere girl like me could possibly have anything to say—a child that has not even been to her first party?"
"Perhaps I was afraid that the mere child might talk about philosophy and Nietzsche," suggested Guido.
"And that would be dreadful, of course! Why? Is there any reason why a girl should not study such things? If there is, tell me. No one ever tells me what I ought to do."
"It is quite unnecessary, I have no doubt," Guido answered promptly, and smiling again.
"You mean quite useless, because I should not do it?"
"Why should I be supposed to know that you are spoiled—if you are? Besides, you must not take up a man every time he makes you a silly compliment."
"Ah, now you are telling me what I ought to do! I like that better. Thank you!" Guido was amused.
"Are you really grateful?" he asked, laughing a little. "Do you always speak the truth?"
"Yes! Do you?" She asked the question sharply, as if she meant to surprise him.