It isn't game, and it isn't manly.

You must respect me, now and always.

I can't have profanity, and I won't." He essayed lame apologies, but a sudden, hot anger seemed to have possessed him, in presence of this free, independent, exacting woman--this woman who, worst of all, had just beaten him at the game of all games he prided himself on playing well.

And despite his every effort, she saw through the veil of sheer, perfunctory courtesy; and seeing, flushed with indignation.
"Wally," she said in a low, quiet tone, fixing a singular gaze upon him, "Wally, I don't know what to make of you lately.

The other night at Idle Hour, you hardly looked at me.