“I never do that,” she cried indignantly.
“I’m not so sure,” he said, unable to resist the temptation to press home the advantage he had won in rousing her out of her placid happiness. “I’m not so sure. There are too many girls do that.”
“I don’t. I may have done it. But I have never done it with you. It is a wicked lie to say anything of the kind.”
“You can’t blame me if I catch at any idea that will help me to understand you.”
“You never will, if you go grubbing about with your mind.”
“Oh! my mind is no good, is it? Then take your hands off my feelings. They’ll understand you right enough.”
“No. They won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re blind.”