“I’m afraid it is,” he admitted, quite as much amused as she appeared to be.
“I see. Some crazy girl here is enamoured of you. Otherwise, you scarcely belong among modern intellectuals, you know.”
At that he laughed outright.
She said: “You really are delightful. You’re just a plain, fighting male, aren’t you?”
“Well, I haven’t done much fighting–––”
“Unimaginative, too! You could have led yourself to believe you had done a lot,” she pointed out. “And maybe you could have interested me.”
“I’m sorry. But suppose you try to interest me?”
“Don’t I? I’ve tried.”
“Do your best,” he encouraged her cheerfully. “You never can be sure I’m not listening.”