“What are you trying to pretend, Wanza?”
“That I’m crazy about the big man. I ain’t.”
“Oh? Well, I really would have no right to object if you found him attractive. I dare say I have seemed rather dictatorial,” I answered chivalrously.
“And something else won’t do.”
“Pray tell me what it is.”
“It won’t do for you to pretend, either.”
“I? What do I pretend?”
She eyed me gravely, pulled a blade of grass, blew on it, and cast it aside.
“Lot of things,” she said then.
“Do I, Wanza?”