They are the things that I look back at with the greatest pleasure of any thing that happened there!" Frank does not apostrophize as "_dear_" any other public resort; indeed, he turns away his head, and we walk on without uttering a word for a few moments.
"By-the-by," say I, with a labored and not altogether successful attempt at appearing to speak with suddenness and want of premeditation, "what did you mean this morning, about that la--about Mrs.Huntley ?" "I meant nothing," he answers, but the faint quiver of a smile about his mouth contradicts his words.
"That is not true!" reply I, with impatient brusqueness; "why were you surprised at my not having heard of her ?" "I was not surprised." "What is the use of so many falsehoods ?" cry I, indignantly; "at least I would choose some better time than when I was going to church for telling them.

What reason have you for supposing that--that Roger knows more about her than I--than Barbara do ?" "How persistent you are!" he says, with that same peculiar smile--not latent now, but developed--curbing his lips and lightening in his eyes.
"There is no baffling you! Since you dislike falsehoods, I will tell you no more.

I will own to you that I made a slip of the tongue; I took it for granted that you had been told a certain little history, which it seems you have _not_ been told." The blood rushes headlong to my face.

It feels as if every drop in my body were throbbing and tingling in my cheeks, but I look back at him hardily.
"I don't believe there _is_ any such history." "I dare say not." More silence.

Swish through the buttercups and the yellow rattle; a lark, miles above our heads, singing the music he has overheard in heaven.