“All right. Analyse her for me.”
“Quantitatively?”
“Certainly.”
“Here she is then: clean, plucky, uneducated, obstinate, immature; and, like any other girl, perfectly pliable when properly handled by an expert.”
“You?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, tweetums——”
“You don’t have to say it. But I’m glad you think you’re an expert. For it’s going to be that kind of girl who will some day put a crimp in you, Barry, and teach you what you don’t know anything about.”
“What’s that, Rose of my Harem?”
“Women,” she said maliciously, “and you make a living by writing about them. And the Great American Ass believes you know what you’re writing about!”