“Ruined you?”
“She has so perverted my mind, that when I try to be natural I am necessarily immodest.”
“That again is a false note,” I said, laughing.
She turned away. “I think you are cruel.”
“By no means,” I declared; “because, for my own taste, I prefer you as—as—”
I hesitated, and she turned back. “As what?”
“As you are.”
She looked at me a while again, and then she said, in a little reasoning voice that reminded me of her mother’s, only that it was conscious and studied, “I was not aware that I am under any particular obligation to please you!” And then she gave a clear laugh, quite at variance with her voice.
“Oh, there is no obligation,” I said, “but one has preferences. I am very sorry you are going away.”
“What does it matter to you? You are going yourself.”