"You are disgusting!" said Beulah.
"It wasn't I who was disgusting," Timothy replied. "Not that disgusting is the word I should have chosen to have described any of it. I'm all for light relief, I am, besides being very broad-minded."
"Broad-minded!"
"Yes, but not broad-minded enough to stomach the Charles Street menage as a setting for the girl I'm going to marry."
"You do think I'm an innocent flower, don't you?"
"Yes, and that in spite of all your endeavours to convince me that you have been a hardened woman of the world for years."
She shrugged. "It's not my fault if you persist in cherishing illusions. I told you that you knew nothing about me."
"Oh, not quite as little as that!" said Timothy cheerfully. "I know, for instance, that at some time or another you've taken a nasty knock which has led you to suppose that the world is against you. Also that you have quarrelled with your relations; and that beneath your not-entirely convincing air of having been hard-boiled early in life you are more than a little scared."
"Scared? Why should I be scared?" she asked sharply.
"That," he replied, "I do not know, and do not propose to ask you. I am quite content to wait for the day when your woman's instinct tells you that I am a fit and proper person to confide in."