pause.

She looked up quickly.

"Truly?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Oh," she laughed, "if you say that, then I shall know that you are less
unsophisticated than I thought you were."

"Why so?" he asked surprised.

"Don't you know that meek, mild men always try to insinuate that they are
regular fire-eaters, and vice versa? Well, it's so--and it's so every time.
There was once a man who was kissing me, and he drew my hands up around
his neck in such a clever, gentle way that I was absolutely positive that
he had had no end of practice drawing arms up in that way and I just
couldn't help saying: 'Oh, how many women you must have kissed!' What do
you think he answered?--merely smiled and said: 'Not so many as you might
imagine.' He showed how much he knew by the way he answered, for oh! he
had. I found that out afterwards."

"What did you do then?" he asked, frowning. "Cut him?"

"No; I married him. Why, of course I was going to marry him when he kissed
me, or I wouldn't have let him kiss me. Do you suppose I let men kiss me
as a general thing? What are you thinking of?"

"I was thinking of you," he said. "It's a horrible habit I've fallen into
lately. But, never mind; keep on talking."

"I don't remember what I was saying," she said. "Oh, yes, I do too. About
men, about good and bad men. Now, even if I didn't know how much trouble
you'd made in the world, I'd divine it all the instant that you were
willing to admit being unsophisticated. People always crave to be the
opposite of what they are; the drug shops couldn't sell any peroxide of
hydrogen if that wasn't so."

He laughed and forgot his previous vexation.

"Now, look at me," she continued. "Oh, I didn't mean really--I mean
figuratively; but never mind. Now, I'm nothing but a bubble and a toy, and
I ache to be considered a philosopher. Don't you remember my telling you
what a philosopher I was, the very first conversation that we ever had
together? I do try so hard to delude myself into thinking I am one, that
some days I'm almost sure that I really am one. Last night, for instance,
I was thinking how nice it would be for my Cousin Maude to marry you."

"Ye gods!" cried Jack.

"She's so very rich," Mrs. Rosscott pursued calmly; "and you know the law
of heredity is an established scientific fact now, so you could feel quite
safe as to her nose skipping the next generation."

Jack was audibly amused.

"It's not anything to laugh over," his companion continue