You really are getting strong again, aren't you ?" "Yes, thank you--very well, very strong." Was it her fancy, or did his manner imply that he wanted to sink that humiliating episode of the tea-party and begin again where they had left off?
It might be so; his courtesy was so infinitely subtle.

He had actually turned and was walking her way now.
"And how is _Sordello ?_" he asked, the tone of his inquiry suggesting that there was something seriously the matter with _Sordello_.
"Getting on.

Only fifty-six pages more." "You _are_ advancing, Miss Quincey--gaining on him by leaps and bounds.
You're not overdoing it, I hope ?" "Oh no, I read a little in the evenings--I have to keep up to the standard of the staff.

Indeed," she added, turning with a sudden suicidal panic, "I ought to be at home and working now." "What?
On a half-holiday?
It _is_ a half-holiday ?" "For some people--not for me." His eyes--she could not be mistaken--were taking her in as they had done before.
"And why not for you?
Do you know, you're looking horribly tired.

Suppose we sit down a bit." Miss Quincey admitted that it would be very nice.
"Hadn't you better put your cape on--the wind's changing." She obeyed him.
"That's hardly a thick enough wrap for this weather, is it ?" She assured him it was very warm, very comfortable.
"Do you know what I would like to do with you, Miss Quincey ?" "No." "I should like to pack you off somewhere--anywhere--for another three months' holiday." "Another three months! What would my pupils do, and what would Miss Cursiter say ?" It was part of the illusion that she conceived herself to be indispensable to Miss Cursiter.
"Confound Miss Cursiter!" Evidently he felt strongly on the subject of Miss Cursiter.