“Coy.”
I said, “In other words, you’re afraid this man who’s calling on her may have honourable intentions.”
She met my eyes for a long moment and then said, “Exactly.”
“How are you and your aunt? Friendly?”
She said, “Let’s not misunderstand each other, Mr. Lam. Suppose you were fifty-two and wanted people to think you looked thirty-five, and you had a young niece hanging around who was — well, how old do you think I am?”
I looked her over carefully and with a long, steady appraisal. “Thirty-eight,” I said.
Her eyes flashed hot anger; then she threw back her head and broke out laughing.
“I’m twenty-four.”
“Well,” I told her, “after the lecture you’d given me on…”
“My God!” she said. “Do I really look past thirty?”