He glanced up quickly. “You're fond of reading?”
“Oh, yes. Aren' you?”
“Why—no, I haven't been. The fellows and girls I've known didn't read much.”
“Tha' seems funny. When you have so much. And it's so easy to read English. Chinese is ver' hard.”
“What books have you read mostly?”
She smiled. “Oh, I coul'n' say. So many! I've read the classics, of course—Shakespeare an' Milton and Chaucer. Chaucer is so modern—don' you think? I mean the way he makes pictures with words.”
“What would you think,” said he, “if I confessed that I cut all those old fellows at school and college?”
“I've thought often,” said she gravely, “tha' you Americans are spoil' because you have so much. So much of everything.”
“Perhaps. I don't know. The fellows feel that those things don't help much in later life.”
“Oh, bu' they do! You mus' have a knowledge of literature an' philosophy. Wha' do they go to college for?”