"Yes."
Then, to his astonishment, she gave way to laughter, honest and
hearty. "How dense of me not to have known the moment you
addressed me! Who but the American holds in scorn custom's
formalities and usages? Your grammar is good, so good that my
mistake is pardonable. The American is always like the terrible
infant; and you are a choice example."
Maurice was not so pleased as he might have been. His ears
burned. Still, he went forward bravely. "A man never pretends to
be an Englishman without getting into trouble."
"I did not ask to speak to you. No one ever pretends to be an
American. Why is it you are always ashamed of your country?"
with malice aforethought.
Maurice experienced the sting of many bees. "I see that your
experience is limited to impostors. I, Mademoiselle, am proud of
my country, the great, free land which stands aside from the
turmoil and laughs at your petty squabbles, your kings, your
princes. Laugh at me; I deserve it for not minding my own
business, but do not laugh at my country." His face was flushed;
he was almost angry. It was not her words; it was the contempt
with which she had invested them.
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