"Oh, I am," she averred fervently. "But you simply smeared my feelings. I thought you were going to be perfectly thrilled and I get no come-back at all! Don't you like my voice even a little bit any more, Mr. Scott? You did, before."
"There's a quality in it that—that—— But what's the use! You won't do any honest work with it."
"You don't think I'm any good at all, do you?" she said peevishly.
"We were talking about your music, weren't we?"
"Ah, but I've done a lot besides music since I saw you. And I've been fearfully good and proper. Aren't you proud?"
"Of you? Very," he smiled.
"Of your influence." She took a fold of his sleeve between finger and thumb and idly pleated at it, keeping her intent gaze fixed there. "Nobody's ever had half so much over me. I've always done exactly what I liked and never done anything I didn't like."
"It's a delightful world, isn't it, Pat? But sometimes those things have to be paid for."
At this she raised her eyes, thoughtful and honest eyes, now a little shadowed. "I've always known that. And I'll always be ready to pay. Whatever else I may be, I'm not yellow, Mr. Scott. I'll take what I can get, and if there's a—a come-back, I'll take that, too."
"Yes. You've got courage. Ça se voit. That sees itself." He had dropped unconsciously into the emphatic French idiom.