"Do you mind—as man to man—telling me how old you are?"
He smiled, loftily. "How old do you think?"
She hazarded: "Sixteen?"
"Most people think that. No, I'm not a bit offended. It's quite an advantage to look a great deal younger than one's age; a sort of disguise to work under. No—I'm seventeen...."
"... Next month," he added.
"I'm interested in various forms and degrees of vice—are you?"
Kathleen felt obliged to make one effort to live up to him.
"From the pathological or the merely spectacular point of view?"
He flung her a look of approval. "Oh, pathological, naturally. I'm past the spectacular stage."
(And oh, he would have made such a dear Boy Scout, with his round cherub face, his blue eyes and smooth fair hair....)