"You ask me to give you my daughter when you haven't money enough to keep her in gowns; you ask me to give her to a stranger--" "Not quite a stranger, General Triscoe," Burnamy protested.

"You have known me for three months at least, and any one who knows me in Chicago will tell you--" "A stranger, and worse than a stranger," the general continued, so pleased with the logical perfection of his position that he almost smiled, and certainly softened toward Burnamy.

"It isn't a question of liking you, Mr.Burnamy, but of knowing you; my daughter likes you; so do the Marches; so does everybody who has met you.

I like you myself.
You've done me personally a thousand kindnesses.

But I know very little of you, in spite of our three months' acquaintance; and that little is--But you shall judge for yourself! You were in the confidential employ of a man who trusted you, and you let him betray himself." "I did.