"Papa, I think they were shocking. Weren't they awful!"
"Just--just boys!" he moaned, wiping his eyes. But Lucy could not
smile at all; she was beginning to look indignant. "I can forgive
that poor Fred Kinney," she said. "He's just blundering--but George--
oh, George behaved outrageously!"
"It's a difficult age," her father observed, his calmness somewhat
restored. "Girls don't seem to have to pass through it quite as boys
do, or their savoir faire is instinctive--or something!" And he gave
away to a return of his convulsion.
She came and sat upon the arm of his chair. "Papa, why should George
behave like that?"
"He's sensitive."
"Rather! But why is he? He does anything he likes to, without any
regard for what people think. Then why should he mind so furiously
when the least little thing reflects upon him, or on anything or
anybody connected with him?"
Eugene patted her hand. "That's one of the greatest puzzles of human
vanity, dear; and I don't pretend to know the answer. In all my life,
the most arrogant people that I've known have been the most sensitive.
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