It was almost my last flight before I went to the machine-shop, and it's pleasant to think somebody liked it enough to--" "But I DON'T like it!" she exclaimed.

"I don't even understand it--and papa made so much fuss over its getting the prize, I just hate it! The truth is I never dreamed it'd get the prize." "Maybe they expected father to endow the school," Bibbs murmured.
"Well, I had to have something to turn in, and I couldn't write a LINE! I hate poetry, anyhow; and Bobby Lamhorn's always teasing me about how I 'keep my heart among the stars.' He makes it seem such a mushy kind of thing, the way he says it.

I hate it!" "You'll have to live it down, Edith.

Perhaps abroad and under another name you might find--" "Oh, hush up! I'll hire some one to steal it and burn it the first chance I get." She turned away petulantly, moving to the door.

"I'd like to think I could hope to hear the last of it before I die!" "Edith!" he called, as she went into the hall.
"What's the matter ?" "I want to ask you: Do I really look better, or have you just got used to me ?" "What on earth do you mean ?" she said, coming back as far as the threshold.
"When I first came you couldn't look at me," Bibbs explained, in his impersonal way.