“Oh, you can sketch me,” he said, with so much gloom that it made her laugh.
“If you think it's so serious, I'd rather not.”
“No, no! Go ahead! How do you want me?”
“Oh, fling yourself down on a chair in one of your attitudes of studied negligence; and twist one corner of your mustache with affected absence of mind.”
“And you think I'm always studied, always affected?”
“I didn't say so.”
“I didn't ask you what you said.”
“And I won't tell you what I think.”
“Ah, I know what you think.”
“What made you ask, then?” The girl laughed again with the satisfaction of her sex in cornering a man.