"You see--" "No--we'll be bad with everyone else," he cried.

"We will, really--everyone else.

And we'll be good with Miss Jones." "Well, so long as you're good, dear," she said.

"I'd no idea you liked her so much." "Oh, she's all right," he said.

"But it isn't that--" Then he stopped; he couldn't explain--especially with that idiot Aunt Amy there, who'd only laugh at him, or kiss him, or something else horrible.
Afterwards, as he went slowly up to bed, he stopped for a moment in the dark passage thinking.