But is the pretty woman any the happier, do you think, for tumbling us thus ruthlessly off our pedestals?
I sometimes wonder if the sight of the sawdust doesn't make her wish she hadn't." The drawl in his voice was very apparent as he uttered the last sentence.
His chin was propped upon his hands.

He was obviously studying her with a deliberate criticism that observed and considered every detail.
But his scrutiny held without embarrassing her.

She met it with no conscious effort.
"I can't bear cynicism," she told him frankly.
He shrugged his shoulders.

"Cynics--real cynics--never can." "But I am not a cynic." "Are you sure of that ?" "Yes, quite sure." "And yet you tell me that you never take the trouble to flatter the inferior male.

That's conflicting evidence, you know.