You are flourishing, and have all sorts of brilliant things before you; wouldn't it be a generous thing--the kind of thing one might expect of a fellow with his heart in the right place--?
You understand me ?" Franks rounded his eyes in amazement.
"But--am I to understand that she _expects_ it ?" "Not at all.

She hasn't in the remotest way betrayed such a thought--be assured of that.

She isn't the sort of girl to do such a thing.

It's entirely my own thought." The artist changed his seat, and for a moment wore a look of perturbed reflection.
"How the deuce," he exclaimed, "can you come and talk to me like this when you know I've as good as committed myself-- ?" "Yes, and in a wobbling, half-hearted way which means you had no right even to think of committing yourself.

You care nothing about that other girl--" "You're mistaken.