She considered this with a pretty seriousness.
"N-no, hardly that," she said at length. "It is only that I do not-- that I am not--somehow, young men (and such very young men! her eyes added) do not exactly . . ."
"You need not trouble to explain yourself any further," Antony broke in coldly. "It is somewhat unfortunate," he continued, enunciating carefully, with averted eyes, "that I, of all people, should have been selected for your escort this morning."
He had never said anything so nearly rude to a woman; but then he had never to his recollection been so thoroughly annoyed by one, since the dimly distant days when a series of deprecating aunts and spying nurses had darkened his youthful horizon.
"Indeed. And why is that?" she asked pleasantly. She had, when she chose, an exceedingly pleasant manner.
"Because," he returned, astonished at himself, but firm nevertheless, "I am not sufficiently accustomed to the society of young ladies to be certain of my ability to entertain even the ordinary variety--much less those who prefer the society of 17 eccentric old gentlemen." Come, he reflected, that's not half bad. Perhaps that will teach her a thing or two!
It seemed to him that there was a flash of respect in her eyes, but he could not be sure, it was so fleeting.
"I suppose your studies take up so much of your time that you have no leisure for society," she said kindly, "but you must not let yourself grow shy: ladies are not very difficult to entertain, really!"
To this remark Antony made no reply, perhaps because he could not think of one which combined the expression of his feelings with anything remotely resembling propriety. They walked on, therefore, in utter silence.