“Who are ‘they’?” he asked, jealous for the first time in his existence.
“Why, the fellows I know.”
“Do you know so many?”
“Oh, well, I’m not a wall flower,” she answered with modest complacency.
“Where do you see these—these men? At your home?”
“Of course not. I meet them just as I did you. Sometimes on the boat, sometimes in the park, sometimes on the street. I’m a pretty good judge of a man. I can tell in a minute if a fellow is one who is likely to get fresh.”
“What do you mean by ‘fresh?’”
“Why, try to kiss you—me, I mean.”
“Do any of them try that?” asked Blinker, clenching his teeth.
“Sure. All men do. You know that.”