“Oh, you are so awfully direct. I don't know. I do care; he's nice in many ways, and he's—I know he likes me and—I would hate to wound him, but then you know he's not just one of us. You know what I mean!”
“Not exactly,” said Kate, quietly. “Do you mean he is not educated?”
“Oh, no, I don't mean education altogether. How very tiresome you are! He has no culture, and manners, and that sort of thing.”
“I think he has very fine manners. He is a little quaint, but you can't call him rude.”
“Oh, no, he's never rude; rather abrupt, but oh, dear, don't you know? What would Aunt Frank say to him?”
Kate's lip curled a little. “I'm very sure I can't say, but I can imagine how she would look.”
“Well, that's it—”
“But,” went on Kate, “I can imagine, too, how Ranald would look back at her if he caught her meaning.”
“Well, perhaps,” said Maimie, with a little laugh, “and that's just it. Oh, I wish he were—”
“A lieutenant?” suggested Kate.