Being decidedly nettled herself, and longing to see him shake off the apathy that so altered him, Amy sharpened both tongue and pencil, and began.
“Flo and I have got a new name for you. It’s Lazy Laurence. How do you like it?”
She thought it would annoy him, but he only folded his arms under his head, with an imperturbable, “That’s not bad. Thank you, ladies.”
“Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?”
“Pining to be told.”
“Well, I despise you.”
If she had even said ‘I hate you’ in a petulant or coquettish tone, he would have laughed and rather liked it, but the grave, almost sad, accent in her voice made him open his eyes, and ask quickly...
“Why, if you please?”
“Because, with every chance for being good, useful, and happy, you are faulty, lazy, and miserable.”
“Strong language, mademoiselle.”