“You know I’m right.”
She tried to look demure. “Why, such an idea never occurred to me. Mr. Durham was just trying to be nice to me…”
I smiled knowingly.
She looked as satisfied as a bird preening its feathers.
I said, “Well, I’m sorry. I hope you’ll pardon me.”
“For what?”
“For getting so personal.”
She said archly, “Women like men who get personal.”
“Do they?”
“Don’t you know?”