"Why," says I, "I think it sounds more refined to speak of it as pink plus."
But Myra seems to be josh-proof.
"That, I presume," says she, "is a specimen of what Aunt Cornelia refers to as your unquenchable impertinence."
"Oh!" says I. "If you've been gettin' Auntie's opinion of me—"
"I have," says Myra; "and, as a near relative of Verona's, I trust you'll pardon me if I seem a bit critical on my own part."
"Don't mind me at all," says I. "You don't like the way I talk or the color of my hair. Go on."
She ain't one to be led anywhere, though.
"I understand," says Myra, "that you come here two or three evenings a week."
"That's about the schedule," says I.
"And just why?" demands Myra.