“I hope you found it worth the three-mile walk,” commented Ann dryly.
“Oh, quite,” he returned with conviction. “I always like making new friends.”
The cool assurance of the assertion annoyed her.
“We’ve hardly got to that stage yet,” she observed distantly.
“No. But we shall do”—confidently. “Perhaps further than that, ultimately.”
She threw him a quick glance and encountered his eyes fixed on her with a kind of gay bravado—like that of a small boy experimenting how far he dare go. It irritated her—this sanguine assumption of his that he was going to count for something in her life. She walked on more quickly.
“Aren’t you rather a conceited person?” she asked mildly.
“I’d prefer to call it having decided ideas,” he returned.
“Well, you must know you can’t force your ideas on other people.”
“Can’t I?” He halted in the middle of the path and faced her. “Do you really think that?”