“So you won’t marry a London beauty?”
And rather coldly Dan had answered:
“Why, you talk, all of you, as if I had only to ask any girl of them, and she would jump down my throat.”
“Don’t try it,” the duchess answered, “unless you want to have your mouth full!”
Dan did not reply for a second, but he looked at her more seriously, conscious of her grace and her good looks. She was certainly better to look at than the simple girls with their big hands, small wits, long faces, and, as the boy expressed it, “utter lack of get-up.” The duchess shone out to advantage.
“Why don’t you talk to me?” she asked softly. “You know you would rather talk to me than the others.”
“Yes,” he said frankly; “they make me nervous.”
“And I don’t?”
“No,” he said. “I learn a lot every time we are together.”
“Learn?” she repeated, not particularly flattered by this. “What sort of things?”