“I should have done if it had been for anybody but you,” said Donald sentimentally. “But every word you say is engraved upon my heart. And don’t call me Mr. Shute. Call me Donald.”
“I’ll call you anything you like if you won’t tread upon the nun’s veiling, and if you leave off snipping the tape with my scissors,” said Chris prosaically.
“How awfully sharp you are with a fellow. Aren’t you nicer than that to anybody, Miss Christina?”
“Not when they interfere with my work.”
“But you’re always like this to me.”
“Always! I have known you two days.”
“And how long must you know me before you leave off snubbing me?”
“As long as you continue to behave as if I were a very silly girl, and you a very silly—boy, Mr. Shute.”
“You think that’s very cutting, I suppose? Do you happen to know how old I am, Miss Abercarne?”
“Oh, perhaps you’re only extremely juvenile for your years; at any rate I should have thought you were too old to worry a girl at your mother’s instigation.”