"Plenty of good fish in the sea yet--as good as ever were caught.

You must forgive the girl for liking me the best." "You jest on a grave subject," said Wallingford, his face growing pale, but his eyes, a little dilated, riveting his companion's where he stood.
"No, I am in earnest," said Dewey, with something in his manner that was offensive.
"Jest or earnest, your familiarity is out of place with me," retorted Wallingford, with a sternness of manner, that quickened the flow of bad blood in Dewey's heart.
"Oh, you needn't take on airs!" replied the other with a sneer of contempt.

Then muttering to himself, yet loud enough to be heard,--"I didn't suppose the puppy would growl at a familiar pat on the head." This was too much for Wallingford.

At another time, he might have borne it with a manly self-possession.

But only an hour before he had met Miss Floyd in the street, and the look she then gave him had stirred his heart, and left a tinge of shadowy regret on his feelings.