I never am so with you; I know it wouldn't be of any use." "Oh, Mr.Beaton, you flatter." "No, I never flatter you." "I meant you flattered yourself." "How ?" "Oh, I don't know.

Imagine." "I know what you mean.

You think I can't be sincere with anybody." "Oh no, I don't." "What do you think ?" "That you can't--try." Alma gave another victorious laugh.
Miss Woodburn and Fulkerson would once have both feigned a great interest in Alma's sketching Beaton, and made it the subject of talk, in which they approached as nearly as possible the real interest of their lives.

Now they frankly remained away in the dining-room, which was very cozy after the dinner had disappeared; the colonel sat with his lamp and paper in the gallery beyond; Mrs.Leighton was about her housekeeping affairs, in the content she always felt when Alma was with Beaton.
"They seem to be having a pretty good time in there," said Fulkerson, detaching himself from his own absolute good time as well as he could.
"At least Alma does," said Miss Woodburn.
"Do you think she cares for him ?" "Quahte as moch as he desoves." "What makes you all down on Beaton around here?
He's not such a bad fellow." "We awe not all doan on him.

Mrs.Leighton isn't doan on him." "Oh, I guess if it was the old lady, there wouldn't be much question about it." They both laughed, and Alma said, "They seem to be greatly amused with something in there." "Me, probably," said Beaton.