She seemed even more amused. “Fortunately then, as I’m never crushed. I don’t think,” she added, “that I’m really as crushable as you.”
The smile with which he received this failed to conceal completely that it was something of a home thrust. “Aren’t we really all crushable—by the right thing?”
She considered a little. “Don’t you mean rather by the wrong?”
He had got, clearly, a trifle more accustomed to her being extraordinary. “Are you sure we always know them apart?”
She weighed the responsibility. “I always do. Don’t you?”
“Not quite every time!”
“Oh,” she replied, “I don’t think, thank goodness, we have positively ‘every time’ to distinguish.”
“Yet we must always act,” he objected.
She turned this over; then with her wonderful living look, “I’m glad to hear it,” she exclaimed, “because, I fear, I always do! You’ll certainly think,” she added with more gravity, “that I’ve taken a line today!”
“Do you mean that of mistress of the house? Yes—you do seem in possession!”