“No, Katie!” Frank said, half amused, half vexed at finding his wife thus early set against the friend for whom he had already fought so many hard battles. “Don't you like him, then?”
“He is amusing,” Katie said, indifferently, “but oh, Frank! he is so false. My flesh crept all over when he shook hands with me this morning.”
“Now, that's not like you, Katie; I am sure he made himself very agreeable. I don't like you to take prejudices against men I have so long known.”
“I am sorry, Frank,” she said, simply, “but I can't help myself. A man I don't like at first sight I never like. A man I do like, I like very much; and I always find I am right. It is an instinct, or a prejudice, if you like, Frank, but in some things instinct is stronger than reason.”
Frank was vexed, but he only said, “Well, Katie, one can't argue against a prejudice. Only, remember I like Fred Bingham, and have always found him a very good fellow, and I have known him for many years. Besides, Katie, you know your prejudices are sometimes erroneous.”
His wife made a gesture of dissent.
“Come, Katie, you know you almost hated me at first, and yet I think you like me a little now.”
Katie coloured. “You silly boy, you know that was a different thing; you know why I hated you.”
“No, really, Katie; why?”