In fact I should suggest you for the presidency--" "I suppose you think all sorts of things because I gushed over that dog." "Of course I do." "Well you need not," she rejoined, delicate nose up-tilted.

"I never kissed a baby in all my life--and never mean to.

Which is probably more than you can say." "Yes, its more than I can say.
"That admission elects you president," she concluded.

But after a moment's silent driving she turned partly toward him with mock seriousness: "Is it not horridly unnatural in me to feel that way about babies?
And about people, too; I simply cannot endure demonstrations.
As for dogs and horses--well, I've admitted how I behave; and, being so shamelessly affectionate by disposition, why can't I be nice to babies?
I've a hazy but dreadful notion that there's something wrong about me, Mr.Siward." He scrutinised the pretty features, anxiously; "I can't see it," he said.
"But I mean it--almost seriously.

I don't want to be so aloof, but--I don't like to touch other people.