"What under the sun did you find to talk about?"
"Oh, anything—nothing. I say, she's charming."
His essay at indifference was amusing.
"You find her so?"
"Rather."
"She seems to have taken a fancy to you."
Harry actually grew red.
"Hardly," he said; but there was hope in the word.
"She is hardly your kind, Harry. You know that. You aren't going in for this sort of thing?"
"This sort—I don't know what you mean."