“You wouldn’t fetch a man’s slippers, would you?”
“You are merely being fatuous!” she said.
“. . . Like a delicious kitten!” said Wilfred. “All soft and downy!”
“They live in the Bronx, don’t they?” enquired Daisy, feeling of her back hair. “She looks as if she had her clothes made near home.”
Wilfred hooted. “You can’t bear to hear another woman praised!”
“Not at all!” said Daisy with dignity. “I enjoy looking at a pretty woman as much as a man does. I have always said so. Women are nicer to look at than men, any day. And a woman is a far better judge of another woman’s looks than any man is!”
“Maybe so,” said Wilfred. “But a pretty woman isn’t pretty for women.”
“No, only for the lords of creation, I suppose.”
“You’re rather pretty yourself,” he said casually appraising her.
“Merci, monsieur!”