The friend had no use for the life, the deity no appetite for the sacrifice.
"Don't think about it," she said; it seemed the best thing to say in the singular circumstances.

"It will all come right." By this time Miss Quincey had got the better of the sob in her throat.
"It may," she replied with dignity; "but I shall not be the first to make advances." "Advances?
Rather not.

But if I thought he was thinking things--he isn't, you know, he's not that sort; still, if I thought it I should have it out with him." "How could you have it--'out with him' ?" "Oh I should just ask him what he thought of me; or better still, tell him what I thought of him." Miss Quincey shrank visibly from the bold suggestion.
"Would you?
Oh, that would never do.

You won't mind my saying so, but I think it would look a little indelicate.

Of course it would be very different if it were a woman; if it were you for instance." "I should do it any way.