"That's no excuse," said he with surpassing severity. "I say, you—you don't really belong in this crowd," he went on earnestly. "Not that there's anything bad—I mean, the set's a bit faster than you're accustomed to. I can see that. I'm not throwing stones, so don't look at me so scornfully. Believe me, it's not the rottenest set in town. It's only the gayest. How do you happen to be here? Are you related to Mrs. Scoville?"
"Birds of a feather," she said, a gleam of anger in her unsmiling eyes.
"You mean that to apply to yourself or to me?" he asked, with a wry smile.
"Do you profess to be any better than the rest of them, Mr. Van Pycke? They call you 'Buzzy' and 'dear,' so they must be your intimates. Why do you set yourself above them?"
"The Lord knows I don't, Miss Downing. But I do set you above them. You'll have to admit there's something in that. I—"
She smiled faintly. "Please don't look so dismal. I didn't mean to bite your head off."
"It would be amazingly interesting, I'm sure, if you were to try it," he said, with his finest smile. She was disarmed. "Still, I don't forget how you subdued Agrippa."
"Oh, Agrippa loves me," she announced calmly. He looked into her deep eyes and realized that she was not an untrained girl from the country. She was very sure of herself.
"Lucky dog," he said.
"He has known me for ages," she explained.