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"
Isabelle
,
"
he
began
rather
testily
,
as
they
arranged
themselves
in
the
car
,
bound
for
a
dance
at
the
Greenwich
Country
Club
,
"
you
're
angry
,
and
I
'll
be
,
too
,
in
a
minute
.
Let
's
kiss
and
make
up
.
"
Isabelle
considered
glumly
.
"
I
hate
to
be
laughed
at
,
"
she
said
finally
.
"
I
wo
n't
laugh
any
more
.
I
'm
not
laughing
now
,
am
I
?
"
"
You
did
.
"
"
Oh
,
do
n't
be
so
darned
feminine
.
"
Her
lips
curled
slightly
.
"
I
'll
be
anything
I
want
.
"
Amory
kept
his
temper
with
difficulty
.
He
became
aware
that
he
had
not
an
ounce
of
real
affection
for
Isabelle
,
but
her
coldness
piqued
him
.
He
wanted
to
kiss
her
,
kiss
her
a
lot
,
because
then
he
knew
he
could
leave
in
the
morning
and
not
care
.
On
the
contrary
,
if
he
did
n't
kiss
her
,
it
would
worry
him
...
It
would
interfere
vaguely
with
his
idea
of
himself
as
a
conqueror
.
It
was
n't
dignified
to
come
off
second
best
,
pleading
,
with
a
doughty
warrior
like
Isabelle
.
Perhaps
she
suspected
this
.
