“Always?” I repeated, rather fatuously.
“Nearly always, ever since you have been a man.”
I was incapable of taking advantage of the opening, if it were one. She was baffling.
“A man likes to succeed in his profession, of course,” I said.
“And you made up your mind to succeed more deliberately than most men. I needn't ask you if you are satisfied, Hugh. Success seems to agree with you,—although I imagine you will never be satisfied.”
“Why do you say that?” I demanded.
“I haven't known you all your life for nothing. I think I know you much better than you know yourself.”
“You haven't acted as if you did,” I exclaimed.
She smiled.
“Have you been interested in what I thought about you?” she asked.