"Will you oblige me by putting it back where you took it from?"
"When I have read it? Of course."
"Before you have read it."
"Why should I?" (rather snappishly).
"Why should you," he repeats, impatiently—not much fonder of opposition than are most of his masterful sex. "Why, because it is not a fit book for a—a child like you to read."
"A child like me!" (sitting bolt up and reddening). "Do you know what age I am?"
"I have not an idea; forty, perhaps."
She laughs.
"Don't you know that all women are children till they are twenty-one; and you are particularly childish for your age."
"I am, am I?"