He was handing back the folded newspaper to Stoller, and saying, with a queer look at him over his glasses, "I should like to see what your contemporaries have to say to all that." "Well, sir," Stoller returned, "maybe I'll have the chance to show you.
They got my instructions over there to send everything to me." Burnamy and Miss Triscoe gave little heed to the landscape as landscape.
They agreed that the human interest was the great thing on a landscape, after all; but they ignored the peasants in the fields and meadows, who were no more to them than the driver on the box, or the people in the two-spanner behind.

They were talking of the hero and heroine of a novel they had both read, and he was saying, "I suppose you think he was justly punished." "Punished ?" she repeated.

"Why, they got married, after all!" "Yes, but you could see that they were not going to be happy." "Then it seems to me that she was punished; too." "Well, yes; you might say that.

The author couldn't help that." Miss Triscoe was silent a moment before she said: "I always thought the author was rather hard on the hero.

The girl was very exacting." "Why," said Burnamy, "I supposed that women hated anything like deception in men too much to tolerate it at all.