I guess that's all." She nodded her head and smiled, and he felt, somehow, that her smile was tolerant, pitifully tolerant.

He was a fool to attempt to make a pretence that way.

That Longfellow chap most likely had written countless books of poetry.
"Excuse me, miss, for buttin' in that way.

I guess the real facts is that I don't know nothin' much about such things.

It ain't in my class.
But I'm goin' to make it in my class." It sounded like a threat.