You couldn't be mawkish." Her tone was gentle as a caress, and it made him tingle to his finger-tips.

"How do you know ?" he asked in a low voice.
"I just know.

Do you think I'm very 'bold and forward' ?" she said, dreamily.
"It was your song I wanted to be sentimental about.

I am like one 'who through long days of toil'-- only that doesn't quite apply--'and nights devoid of ease'-- but I can't claim that one doesn't sleep well here; it is Plattville's specialty--like one who "'Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies.'" "Those blessed old lines!" she said.

"Once a thing is music or poetry, all the hand-organs and elocutionists in the world cannot ruin it, can they?
Yes; to live here, out of the world, giving up the world, doing good and working for others, working for a community as you do----" "I am not quite shameless," he interrupted, smilingly.