"Don't you know me well enough to be sure that I should never get into what you call a mess--at least, not in the way I suppose you mean?
My heart and thought are my own, and I shall be prepared to render account of them; for the rest, you need not be afraid." "I didn't mean that--I didn't mean anything of the sort----" "I am glad to hear it," broke in Stella.

"It would scarcely have been kind, especially as I am no longer a child who needs to be warned against the dangers of the world." "What I did mean is that you are an enigma; that I am frightened about you; that you are no companion; because your thoughts--yes, and at times your face, too--seem unnatural, unearthly, and separate you from others, as they have separated you from this poor young man." "I am what I was made," answered Stella with a little smile, "and I seek company where I can find it.

Some love the natural, some the spiritual, and each receive from them their good.

Why should they blame one another ?" "Mad," muttered her father to himself as she left the room.

"Mad as she is charming and beautiful; or, if not mad, at least quite impracticable and unfitted for the world.