“I am still more surprised,” the Marquis remarked.
“Just because you hate women does not mean that we are all empty-headed fools,” Shikara retorted. “Perhaps you have met the wrong sort of women!”
The Marquis thought that this might easily be true, but he merely replied,
“What do you call the wrong sort?”
“The type who run after men, flatter and pander to them,” Shikara said scathingly.
He laughed.
By the time Shikara had finished dinner he had found himself laughing a remarkable number of times at the things she said to him.
She might be irritating, and he was quite convinced that as far as he was concerned she was little else, but she undoubtedly had an original way of looking at life and of speaking her mind in a manner that he had never before encountered in a woman.
He was, of
