“Do you think I’m a fool!” she exclaimed.
“Not at all. But you don’t understand me, my dear.”
There was a pause between them.
“But you ought NOT to expose yourself,” she pleaded.
He shrugged his shoulders. “‘The man in righteousness arrayed, The pure and blameless liver, Needs not the keen Toledo blade, Nor venom-freighted quiver,’“
he quoted.
She looked at him searchingly.
“I wish I could understand you,” she said.
“There’s simply nothing to understand,” he laughed.