"So that's it?" she sputtered again, "And I thought you were too
decent to join in that talk about a woman just because she's young and
wears pretty clothes and likes to go out. I'm astonished at you, I
really am. I thought you were more of a man!" She broke off, scowling
at me most furiously.
Feeling all at once rather a fool, I sought to conciliate her. "I have
joined in no talk," I said. "I merely suggested----" But she shut me
off sharply.
"And let me tell you one thing: I can pick out my associates in this
town without any outside help. The idea! That girl is just as nice a
person as ever walked the earth, and nobody ever said she wasn't
except those frumpy old cats that hate her good looks because the men
all like her."
"Old cats!" I echoed, wishing to rebuke this violence of epithet, but
she would have none of me.
"Nasty old spite-cats," she insisted with even more violence, and went
on to an almost quite blasphemous absurdity. "A prince in his palace
wouldn't be any too good for her!"
"Tut, tut!" I said, greatly shocked.
"Tut nothing!" she retorted fiercely. "A regular prince in his palace,
that's what she deserves. There isn't a single man in this one-horse
town that's good enough to pick up her glove. And she knows it, too.
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