All them secret confabs an' trickery to win votes can't be on the square.

Don't talk to me! Politics is another name for rascality!" "Perhaps you're right, ma'am; perhaps you're right," he said, with a sigh.
She looked at him sharply.
"You don't belong in Elmwood." "No, ma'am; I'm from beyond Fairview.

I've come to see your husband on business." She sniffed, at that, but picked up her darning and relapsed into silence.

The little man was patient.

He sat quietly in his chair and watched her work.
His mildness disarmed Mary Hopkins.