She tucks her arm into his.

"And as for all that talk about 'knowledge'-- don't bother me about that any more.

It's a little rude of you, do you know?
One would think I was a dunce--that I knew nothing--whereas, I assure you," throwing out her other hand, "I know _quite_ as much as most girls, and a great deal more than many.

I daresay," putting her head to one side, and examining him thoughtfully, "I know more than you do if it comes to that.

I don't believe you know this moment who wrote 'The Master of Ballantrae.' Come now, who was it ?" She leans back from him, gazing at him mischievously, as if anticipating his defeat.