"It wouldn't be natural for you if you did."
The girl slid away from him and went and perched herself comfortably on the arm of the chair in which he had been sitting. Her hands were busy with her hatpins and her eyes that peered up at him were filled with laughter.
"How did you get up from the station, Gina?"
"Oh, such a lovely way, Billy! And so very energetic for me. I walked. Now, what do you know about that?"
He frowned a bit.
"Very good for you, I don't doubt." He said it stiffly. "After all the motoring you must have done with those friends of yours!"
She had gotten her hat off. She sat dangling it by the brim. The lamplight streaked over her hair.
"Now, don't be nasty, William. And whatever you do, don't speak to me as if I were a congregation. The Trents are perfectly lovely people, even if they are terribly rich and not very Christian. And—and Georgie Trent is a sweet boy; and," she added it hastily. "Wood Mills is a duck of a place!"
He thrust his hands into his coat pockets.
"I never said it wasn't, Gina."