“You are a funny, a very funny young lady,” he said, “but we waste time here. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her.
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