And then she commenced plying me with questions in a ladylike way about my work and my past life, but in such a skilful manner that it was almost impossible to avoid answering.

She was so sure that I must be dull, living all alone.

Oh, of course I was too good and unselfish to say so, but all the same I must be miserably dull.

What could have put such a singular idea in my head, she wondered.

When young ladies did this sort of thing there was generally some painful reason: they were unhappy at home, or they had had some disastrous love-affair.