imperfect ones."

"But then they wouldn't be perfect. Not if they----"

"Oh, yes, they remain perfectly perfect," she assured him.
"That's because they never go into details. They're not so
vulgar as to come right out and TELL that you've been in jail for
stealing chickens. They just look absent-minded and say in a low
voice, 'Oh, very; but I scarcely think you'd like her particularly';
and then begin to talk of something else right away."

His smile had disappeared. "Yes," he said, somewhat ruefully.
"That does sound like Mildred. You certainly do seem to know
her! Do you know everybody as well as that?"

"Not myself," Alice said. "I don't know myself at all. I got to
wondering about that--about who I was--the other day after you
walked home with me."

He uttered an exclamation, and added, explaining it, "You do give
a man a chance to be fatuous, though! As if it were walking home
with me that made you wonder about yourself!"

"It was," Alice informed him, coolly. "I was wondering what I
wanted to make you think of me, in case I should ever happen to
see you again."

This audacity appeared to take his breath. "By George!" he
cried.