Mr Stacey commenced by looking at his companion as if he were half-doubtful, half-amused.
"Gilbert, you don't seem disposed to be talkative."
The reply was curt and to the point.
"I'm not."
"Nor, if you will forgive my saying so, do you seem inclined to make yourself peculiarly agreeable to our hostess."
Mr Gilbert surveyed the ash which was on the tip of his cigar. His words were pregnant with meaning.
"Stacey, I can't stand women."
With Mr Stacey amusement was getting the upper hand.
"Does that apply to women in general or to this one in particular?"
"Yes to both your questions. I don't wish to be rude to your ward or to my hostess, but the girl's a fool."