There's only one kind of a girl of whom men are really afraid....

And now I don't exactly know what to do about you--being, myself, as guilty and horrid as you have been." She regarded him contemplatively, her hands joined behind her back.
"Exactly what to do about you I don't know," she repeated, leisurely inspecting him.

"Shall I tell you something?
I am not afraid to; I am not a bit cowardly about it either.

Shall I ?" "If you dare," he said, smiling and uncertain.
"Very well, then; I rather like you, Mr.Hamil." "You _are_ a trump!" he blurted out, reddening with surprise.
"Are you astonished that I know you ?" "I don't see how you found out--" "Found out! What perfectly revolting vanity! Do you suppose that the moment I left you I rushed home and began to make happy and incoherent inquiries?
Mr.Hamil, you disappoint me every time you speak--and also every time you don't." "I seem to be doomed." "You are.

You can't help it.