"Pretty bad."
"Really! I suppose it isn't according to the mail-order book recipe."
"It's muddy and it's weak."
"Are you always so frank in your expression of views?"
"Well, you asked me."
"Would you answer as plainly whatever I asked you?"
"Certainly. I'd have too much respect for you not to."
She opened wide eyes at this. Then provocatively: "What do you think of
me, Mr. Banneker?"
"I can't answer that."
"Why not?" she teased.
"I don't know you well enough to give an opinion."
"You know me as well as you ever will."
"Very likely."
"Well, a snap judgment, for what it's worth.... What are you doing
there?"
"Making more coffee."
Io stamped her foot. "You're the most enraging man I ever met."
"It's quite unintentional," he replied patiently, but with no hint of
compunction. "You may drink yours and I'll drink mine."
"You're only making it worse!"
"Very well; then I'll drink yours if you like."
"And say it's good."
"But what's the use?"
"And say it's good," insisted Io.
"It's marvelous," agreed her unsmiling host.
Far from being satisfied with words and tone, which were correctness
itself, Io was insensately exasperated.
"You're treating me like a child," she charged.
"How do you want me to treat you?"
"As a woman," she flashed, and was suddenly appalled to feel the blood
flush incredibly to her cheeks.
Pages:
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109