She was silent a moment before she spoke again.

"I don't believe it--at all. But you _are_ unconventional, aren't you?"

"According to the standards of _your_ world, yes, decidedly."

"_My_ world! What do you know about my world?"

"Only what you've told me by your opinions of mine."

"I haven't expressed my opinions."

"There's no need of your expressing them."

"If you're going to be cross I'll not wash another dish." But she
handed the last of them to him and emptied the dishpan.

"Now," she exclaimed. "I wish you'd please go outside and smoke."
"Outside! Why?"

"I'm going to put this place in order. Ugh! I've never in my life
seen such a mess. _Won't_ you go?"

He looked around deprecatingly. "I'm sorry you came in here. It _is_
rather a mess on the floor--and around," and then as though by an
inspiration, "but then you know, I do keep the pots and dishes clean."

By this time she had reached the shelves over which she ran an
inquisitive finger.