"Well!" she said. "So this is Paris! What are you trying to do—teach me capital L—life? And where do we dance?"
"In here."
"And what kind of quart was that you ordered? You know how little I drink, and I'm darned particular about even that little."
"You'll like this."
"I doubt it."
"I said you'll like it," he reiterated in flat tones.
"I heard you say it." She regarded him with a puzzled frown. "Nick," she said suddenly, "I've decided I like you better in your gentle pose; this masterful attitude isn't becoming, and you can forget what I said about wishing you'd display it oftener."
"You'll like that, too."
"Again I doubt it. Nick, dear, don't spoil another evening like that last one!"
"This one won't be like the last one!"