“Oh, confound it, Pollie, you are always flying out at me! I dare say she's a good girl—she looks it, but if you want me to say that she's good-looking, I can't be such a hypocrite even to please you.”
Miss Starbrow flashed a keen glance at him, and then without replying turned to Mr. Brown.
“Really—honestly, Miss Starbrow,” he said, “you couldn't have selected a more charming-looking girl. But your judgment is always—well, just what it should be; that goes without saying.”
She turned impatiently from him and looked at Mr. Chance, still gracefully reclining in his chair.
“Is my poor opinion really worth anything to you?” he said, and rising he walked over to the girl and touched her hand, which made her start a little. “I wish to see your eyes—won't you look at me?” He spoke very gently.
Fan glanced up into his face for a moment.
“Thank you—just what I thought,” said he, returning to his seat.
“Well?” said Miss Starbrow.
“Must I put it in words—those poor symbols?” he returned. “I know so well that you can understand without them.”
“Perhaps I might if I tried very hard, but I choose not to try,” she replied, with a slight toss of her head.