“You are nice, too,” said Paula. “Are all bad men nice?”
Again Sheldon plunged into a long argument meant to convince her that he wasn’t a bad man at all. He rather overdid it, in fact, so that had Paula believed all he told her, she must have thought him an angel. But Paula didn’t believe.
“You tell me too many lies,” she said quietly when he had done.
He protested and went over the ground again. But in one thing he was greatly pleased; at last she talked with him. He felt that at least some little gain had been made. And he hoped that, in spite of her words, she held him in less horror than she had at first.
Once more he sought to draw her out, to get her to talk of herself, of her life, of her father.
“Have you really lived here all your life?” he asked casually.
“Yes,” she answered.
“And you know absolutely nothing of the world outside?”
“I know that all men there are bad. That they kill and steal and lie.”
“How do you know this?”