I wish I knew what was wrong in me." The girl suddenly interested herself in the contents of an antiquated photograph album.
"I must have become dreadfully uninteresting," he continued, "if you prefer the faces in that album, of which I've heard you make fun time and again.

Won't you tell me what it is?
Don't be afraid to talk plainly: I can stand anything--from you." "Oh, nothing," said Eleanor, continuing to pretend interest in the pictures.
"'Nothing' said in that tone always means something--and a great deal of it.

Have I said or done anything to offend you ?" "No," said Eleanor, with a sigh, closing the book and folding her hands, "only--I didn't suppose you ever could become a prosy, poky old church-member." The reply was a laugh, so merry, hearty, and long that Eleanor looked indignant, until she saw a roguish twinkle in Bartram's eyes; then she blushed and looked confused.
"Please tell me what I have said or done that was poky or prosy," asked Bartram.

"We lawyers have a habit of asking for proof as well as charges.

I give you my word, my dear girl, that never in all my previous life did I feel so entirely cheerful and good-natured as I do nowadays.