She got up and stood with her hands resting on the back of the chair. "If I didn't have to like you, Henry, I wouldn't like you a single bit. But somehow I can't help it. It must be because I can't understand you."
"Then why do you blame me for not making myself plain, since your regard depends upon the uncertain light in which you see me?"
"You are so funny," she said.
"Then you ought to laugh at me instead of scolding."
"Indeed! But if I didn't scold sometimes you would rim over me; and besides, we shouldn't have the happiness that comes from making up again. Really, though, won't you think about what I have said?"
"I will think about you, and that will include all that you have said and all that you may say."
"I oughtn't to kiss you good night, but after that I suppose I must. There—Mr.—Ungratefulness. Good night."