“I can tell you something that you feel about him.”
“What?”
“You are afraid of him.”
Miss Van Tuyn’s silky fair skin reddened.
“I’m not afraid of anyone,” she retorted. “If I have one virtue, I think it’s courage.”
“You’re certainly not a Miss Nancy as a rule. In fact, your cheek is pretty well known in Paris. But you’re afraid of Arabian.”
“Am I really?” said the girl, recovering from her surprise and facing him hardily. “And how have you found that out?”
“You took a fancy to the fellow the first time you saw him.”
“I did not take a fancy. I am not an under-housemaid.”
“There’s not really a particle of difference between an under-housemaid and a super-lady when it comes to a good-looking man.”