“Very much.”
They talked thus for several minutes, and then he asked her to come out with him the following Saturday afternoon. Chiefly out of curiosity she accepted....
§ 5
“That’s just where you’re wrong, Amy,” she replied, as they walked along the High Road from Bockley Station, “I don’t like him a bit. I think he’s one of the dullest and most empty-headed men I’ve ever met. So there!”
“You thought he was clever enough after that train accident when he went to claim damages, anyway.”
“Oh, that?—That’s only a sort of cheap smartness. A kind of pounciness. Like a pawnbroker’s assistant. I tell you he’s got no real brains worth calling any.”
“Then if you don’t like him why are you going out with him on Saturday?”
“’Cos I am. Why shouldn’t I? It’ll be your turn maybe the week after. Hasn’t the poor man a right to ask out any girl besides you?”
“I believe you do like him....”
“What?—Like him?—Him?—If I couldn’t find a better man than that I’d go without all my life, I would. Take him, my dear Amy, take him and God bless both of you! Don’t think I shall mind!”