"Who is it?" said Clayton.
"I don't know!" said Nina. "I never saw him before. But I hate him! He is a bad man! I'd as soon have a serpent come near me as that man!"
"Well, the poor fellow's face isn't prepossessing," said Clayton. "But I should not be prepared for such an anathema."
"Tom's badness," continued Nina, speaking as if she were following out a train of thought, without regarding her companion's remark, "is good turned to bad. It's wine turned to vinegar. But this man don't even know what good is!"
"How can you be so positive about a person that you've only seen once!" said Clayton.
"Oh," said Nina, resuming her usual gay tones, "don't you know that girls and dogs, and other inferior creatures, have the gift of seeing what's in people? It doesn't belong to highly-cultivated folks like you, but to us poor creatures, who have to trust to our instincts. So, beware!" And, as she spoke, she turned to him with a fascinating air of half-saucy defiance.
"Well," said Clayton, "have you seen, then, what is in me?"
"Yes, to be sure!" said Nina, with energy; "I knew what you were the very first time I saw you. And that's the reason why"—
Clayton made an eager gesture, and his eye met hers with a sudden flash of earnestness. She stopped, and blushed, and then laughed.