On consideration, she decided to ignore this prompt countering of the pronoun.
“I thought you were some one else,” she observed.
“Well, so I am, am I not?”
“So you are what?”
“Some one else than you thought.”
“Why, yes, I suppose—But I meant some one else besides yourself.”
“I only wish I were.”
“Why?” she asked, intrigued by the fervid inflection of the wish.
“Because then I’d be somewhere else than in this infernal hell-hole of a black-and-tan nursery of revolution, fever, and trouble!”
“I think it one of the loveliest spots I’ve ever seen,” said she loftily.