Now that's the honest truth.

I know it was scampish; but I never pretended to be good.

It is nothing for you to make a fuss about, because, whatever I am--and it isn't much one way or another--I am all yours, straight as a die, Christine.

I suppose, if we lived together fifty years, I'd probably kiss fifty women--once a year isn't a high average; but those kisses wouldn't mean anything; and you, you, my girl"-- he bent his head down to her "why, you mean everything to me, and I wouldn't give one kiss of yours for a hundred thousand of any other woman's in the world! What you've done for me, and what you'd do for me--" There was a strange pathos in his voice, an uncommon thing, because his usual eloquence was, as a rule, more pleasing than touching.

A quick change of feeling passed over her, and her eyes filled with tears.