It was a chance shot, but it hit the mark.
"I had not thought you so quick," she said, with a note of sincerity under the mockery.
"I am not quick, señorita," I replied. "It is no more than the reflection of your own wit."
"That does not ring true."
"It is true that you raise me above my dull self."
"Have I said that I have found you dull?"
"I have never succeeded in acquiring the modish smartness of the gallants and the wits."
"That, señor, is beyond the power of a man to acquire." I looked for mockery in her eyes, and saw only gravity. The scarlet lips were curved in scorn, but not of myself. "It is only those born as brainless magpies who can chatter. You were right when you said that I could tell of truths from my own observation. I left England with as little regret as I shall—"
"Do not say it, señorita!" I protested.
"You Americans! You have the persistence of the British, with no small share of French alertness!"