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“I don’t think I’ve done much to make you fond of me.”

“Do you think it’s what people do that makes you fond of them? I think it’s what they are.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Mrs. Holmes said abruptly:

“And what do you think I am?”

Ann hesitated.

“It’s difficult to put what I feel into words. I know I don’t really understand you—you’re too… too complex to grasp quickly. That’s what makes you so interesting.”

Mrs. Holmes laughed.

“You’re a quaint child. And are others—the Ralstons, Mr. Waring, Dick—are they complex too?”

“Oh no—they’re much easier to understand.”

“Well explain them. I didn’t know we had such a famous judge of character here. What about the Ralstons?”

“I’ve only just met them. I think they’re jolly, good-hearted, healthy-minded sort of people. But I haven’t thought much about them.”

“Really! And Mr. Waring?”

Ann was silent.

“Have you thought much about him? Does he interest you?”

“Yes, in a way. Am I being impertinent, talking about your friends like this?”

“Not at all. You’re amusing. Go on with your analysis.”

She took out a cigarette, and lit it.

“He’s attractive, but he’s… selfish.”

“All men are selfish.”

“Oh no,” said Ann quickly, “Mr. Holmes isn’t.