'She is intelligent, gracious, and sympathetic,' Armorel repeated. 'Is she gracious to everybody—even to people she does not like?'
'In society,' said Roland, 'we like everybody. We are all perfectly well-bred and well-behaved: we always say the kindest things about each other.'
'Now you are saying one thing and meaning another. That is like your friend Dick Stephenson. Don't, Roland.'
'Well, then, I have very little more to say. This girl, however, is always a woman's woman.'
'What is that?'
'Difficult to explain. A wise lady once advised me when I went courting, first to make quite sure that the girl was a woman's woman. I think she meant that other girls should speak and think well of her. I haven't always remembered the advice, it is true, but——' Here he stopped short and in some confusion, remembering that this was not an occasion for plenary confession.
But Armorel only nodded gravely. 'I shall remember,' she said.
'The rest you know. She loves everything that is beautiful and good. She hates everything that is coarse and ugly. That is all.'
'Thank you—I shall remember,' she repeated. 'Roland, you must have thought a good deal about girls to know so much.'
He blushed: he really did. He blushed a rich and rosy red.