"Until now I've stuffed away my work when I heard you coming.

I didn't think it genteel.

What do you think ?" I scanned the shapeless mass of linen or tulle or whatever it was on her lap.
"I don't know whether it's genteel," I remarked, "but at present it looks like nothing on God's earth." My masculine ignorance of such mysteries made her laugh.

She is readily moved to mild mirth, which makes her an easy companion.

Besides, little jokes are made to be laughed at, and I like women who laugh at them.
There was a brief silence.