Mr.Parmalee was a good deal of a stoic and a little of a cynic; but he was flesh and blood, as even stoics and cynics are, and the man under sixty was not born who could have resisted that dark, bewitching, wheedling, beautiful face.
The American artist took her in his long arms with a vigorous hug, and favored her with a sounding kiss.
"I'll tell you, Sybilla.

Hanged if I don't believe you can twist me round your little finger if you choose! You're as pretty as a picture--you are, I swear and I love you like all creation; and I'll marry you just as soon as this little business is settled, and I'll take you to Maine, and keep you in the tallest sort of clover.

I never calk'lated on having a British gal for a wife; but you're handsome enough and spunky enough for a president's lady, and I don't care a darn what the folks round our section say about it.

I'll tell you, Sybilla; but you mustn't split to a living soul, or my cake's dough.
They say a woman can't keep a secret; but you must try, if you should burst for it.

I reckon my lady will come down handsomely before I've done with her, and you and me, Sybilla, can go to housekeeping across the three thousand miles of everlasting wet in tip-top style.