You sit there looking like Dante with a beard, as cold as ice." "I am very sorry," he answered, startled from a reverie.

"I know I am a failure in such sort of ways.

What do you want me to say ?" This was not promising, and her annoyance increased.
"I want you to tell me you love me--over and over again," she whispered, controlling her voice.
"Women always ask these questions," he said to gain time.

"They never take anything for granted as men do." "No!" she flashed.

"Not when a man's actions point to the possibility of several other interpretations of his sentiments--then they want words to console them.