If Alan had said _you_, she would have snubbed him at once; but the well-chosen words, _a woman of your type_, completely carried her away.

She was not an egotist; she was only intensely interested in herself as the single specimen of humanity which she was able to study exhaustively.
"I think the people who make me angry are the unresponsive people," she replied thoughtfully; "the people who do not put their minds into the same key as mine when I am talking to them.

Don't you know the sort?
When you discuss a thing from one standpoint they persist in discussing it from another; and as soon as you try to see it from their point of view, they fly off to a third.

It isn't so much that they differ from you--that you would not mind; there is a certain harmony in difference which is more effective than its unison of perfect agreement--but they sing the same tune in another key, and the discords are excruciating.
Then the people who argue make me angry; those who argue about trifles, I mean." "Ah! All you women are alike in that; you love discussion, and hate argument.

The cause of which is that you decide things by instinct rather than by reason, and that therefore--although you know you are right--you can not possibly prove it." "Then," Elisabeth continued, "I get very angry with the people who will bother about non-essentials; who, when you have got hold of the vital centre of a question, stray off to side issues.