"Oh," exclaimed Bessie, shocked at the mere idea of such a thing.
"You do not say 'I hate you,' so my opinion is that you l--"
"Mr. Moore," cried Bessie, sternly, and the poet diplomatically allowed her interruption to finish his remark.
"Men are so foolish," observed the girl, knitting her brows in sad contemplation of masculine idiocy. "Really it is quite saddening when one considers their stupidity."
"And yet," said Moore, "if we were not such fools you wise little ladies would find it much more difficult to work your wills."
"I am not so sure of that," said Bessie, with a sniff of superiority. "Men are great nuisances at best."
"Had you rather I went away?" asked Moore, in his most honeyed accents. "Shall I go?"
"You must suit your own inclination, sir," replied Bessie, too clever to be so entrapped.
"And you?" he returned. "Can't you say 'I wish you to stay'?"
"No, Mr. Moore."