Minola saw that her friend had something on her mind, but thought it best not to ask her any questions, feeling sure that if Lucy had anything she wished to say, Lucy would not keep it long unsaid.
After a moment's pause, "Nola!"
"Yes, dear."
"You don't much like men in general?"
"Well, Lucy dear, I don't know that anybody much likes men in general, or women either. Good Christians say that they love all their brothers and sisters, but I don't suppose it's with a very ardent love."
"But you rather go in for not liking men as a rule, don't you?"
Minola was a little amused by the words, "go in for not liking men." They seemed to be what she knew Lucy never meant them for—a sort of rebuke to the affectation which would formally pose itself as misanthropic. Minola had of late begun to entertain doubts as to whether a certain amount of half-conscious egotism and affectation did not mingle in her old-time proclamations of a dislike to men.
"I think I rather did go in for not liking men, Lucy; but I think I am beginning to be a little penitent. Perhaps I was rather general in my ideas; perhaps the men I knew best were not very fair specimens of the human race; perhaps men in general don't very much care what I think of them."
"Any man would care if he knew you, especially if he saw you with your hair down like that. But, anyhow, you don't dislike all men?"
"Oh, no, dear. How could I dislike your father, Lucelet?"