“No, I don’t think!” he answered angrily.
“Well, try,” she suggested sweetly. “Put yourself into our place.”
“It’s you putting yourselves into our place that’s the trouble,” he retorted. “What will women be up to next, I wonder.”
Here it was Jinny’s turn to flare up. She had never—it has been already remarked—thought of herself as up to anything, rarely even thought of herself as a woman, least of all as a representative of her sex. But challenged now to her face for the first time, she felt she must hold the pass for all womanhood.
“We women will be up to whatever we please.”
“Not if you want to please the men.”
Jinny’s young face flashed fire and roses. “And who wants to please the men?”
He laughed complacently. “I never met a woman who didn’t.”
The girl’s fire died into cold contempt. “I don’t think you know much about women.”
“Me? Why, I’ve knocked about since you were in pinafores—and pelisses!”