He gave me a home when I was homeless; he was my friend when I was friendless.

I have broken his bread and drunk of his cup, and slept under his roof, and--I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!" Mr.Parmalee took out his cigar and stared at her in horror.
"I tell you what it is, Miss Silver," he said, "I don't like this sort of thing--I don't, by George! I ain't surprised at a person hating a person, because I hate him myself; but for a young woman that is going to be my wife to cut up like this here, and swear everlasting vengeance--well, I don't like it.

You see, wild cats ain't the most comfortable sort of pets a man can have in his house, and how do I know but it may be my turn next ?" "You precious old stupid! As if I could hate you, if I tried.

No, no, George; you may trust Sybilla.

The wild cat will sheathe her claws in triple folds of velvet for you." "Humph!" said Mr.Parmalee; "but the claws will still be there.
However, I ain't a-going to quarrel with you about it.