I couldn't love a man who wasn't frank with me.

That is, I suppose I could, but I should hate to; it would break my heart.

Well, after dinner, when Dad had lighted his cigar, and Blakely his cigarette, it all came out.
"Tom!" "Yes, my boy." (I think Dad loved to hear Blakely say Tom almost as much as I loved to hear him say Elizabeth.) "Tom, I've got you and Elizabeth into a deuce of an unpleasant position.

I've told you what a fine woman my mother is, and how she'd welcome Elizabeth with open arms, and now I find I was all wrong.

My mother isn't a fine woman; she's an ancestor-worshiping, heartless, selfish snob.