His eyes met her hurt gaze with unfeigned astonishment.
“What’s the matter? Have I offended again?” he asked quietly.
“I’d like you better if you didn’t pretend that I was pretty, that’s all,” said Claire somberly. “Nobody knows better than I what a plain, insignificant creature I am.”
“You are neither plain nor insignificant,” he replied crossly. “And I’m not the kind of man to say what I don’t mean.”
Claire flushed painfully at her lack of savoir faire.
“Please forgive me, Dr. Elliott. I don’t seem to know how to take things lightly any more.”
He smiled sideways at her.
“We seem to do nothing but quarrel and make up like a pair of kids! But how about the appetite? For here we are!”
They had entered Bronxville, and the Gramatan Inn loomed benevolently over them from the top of its comfortable little hill.
“How pretty!” exclaimed Claire, jumping out of the car almost briskly. “Quite English, isn’t it?”