Why in the world should Lola Brandt, whom I have only met three or four times, revolutionise the whole of her life for my sake?
"I should have thought it was for Dale's," said I.
"I suppose you would, being a man," she replied.
I retorted, with a smile: "Woman is the eternal conundrum to which the wise man always leaves her herself to supply the answer.

Doubtless one of these days you'll do it.

Meanwhile, I'll wait in patience." She gave me one of her sidelong, flashing glances and sewed with more vigour than appeared necessary.

I admired the beautiful curves of her neck and shoulders as she bent over her work.

She seemed too strong to wield such an insignificant weapon as a needle.
"That's neither here nor there," she said in reference to my last remark.