"That would have been a beautiful result of your experiment." "I should have seemed to you a rascal, perhaps, but I should have saved you from a latent coquette.

You would owe some thanks for that." "And now you have n't saved me," said Gordon, with a simple air of noting a fact.
"You assume--in spite of what I say--that she is a coquette!" "I assume something because you evidently conceal something.

I want the whole truth." Bernard turned back to the window with increasing irritation.
"If he wants the whole truth he shall have it," he said to himself.
He stood a moment in thought and then he looked at his companion again.
"I think she would marry you--but I don't think she cares for you." Gordon turned a little pale, but he clapped his hands together.
"Very good," he exclaimed.

"That 's exactly how I want you to speak." "Her mother has taken a great fancy to your fortune and it has rubbed off on the girl, who has made up her mind that it would be a pleasant thing to have thirty thousand a year, and that her not caring for you is an unimportant detail." "I see--I see," said Gordon, looking at his friend with an air of admiration for his frank and lucid way of putting things.
Now that he had begun to be frank and lucid, Bernard found a charm in it, and the impulse under which he had spoken urged him almost violently forward.
"The mother and daughter have agreed together to bag you, and Angela, I am sure, has made a vow to be as nice to you after marriage as possible.
Mrs.Vivian has insisted upon the importance of that; Mrs.Vivian is a great moralist." Gordon kept gazing at his friend; he seemed positively fascinated.
"Yes, I have noticed that in Mrs.Vivian," he said.
"Ah, she 's a very nice woman!" "It 's not true, then," said Gordon, "that you tried to make love to Angela ?" Bernard hesitated a single instant.
"No, it is n't true.

I calumniated myself, to save her reputation.