"Well, I don't care whether he is much thought of or not, I think he is a very nice fellow."
"If I had known he was such a great friend of yours, I wouldn't have said a word. You asked me."
She laughed. "How funny Englishmen are! I see I must never ask one man his opinion of another, unless he belongs to the same club—if I don't mean him to be sniffed at. Well! I am never influenced by any one's opinion. If I like people, I like them, and if I don't, I don't."
"Capital! You have the courage of your opinions. So few girls have the pluck to do that, to stick to what they think. I wonder if you will always remain like that."
She was playing with her fan, and looked up, to find his eyes fixed upon her. She laughed lightly.
"I have been chaffed pretty badly about being an Anglomaniac since I returned home; but I don't mind. I like England and Englishmen. I don't care so much about Englishwomen. They are kind of condescending, I find, and I suspect they are a little jealous of us—so many of our girls having carried off their young men. In short, I believe our best time with you is over."
"Why do you say that? I thought people were so very civil to you?"
"So they were—many of them—more than civil; but my eyes and ears were wide open. I saw things—I heard things said about me; and I know we were refused invitations to several balls because we were American."
"No, only because society is already much too big for our small houses; and as to jealousy, isn't that a feminine form of appreciation?"
"Do males rise superior to it?"