I can't remember when you've walked with him.

So many times I've heard you refuse--and I dare say it doesn't please him, you know." "Oh, he has often told me so." "Well ?" "Aunt Bell--I--Oh, _you've_ walked on the street with Allan!" "To be sure I have!" "Well!" "Well--of course--that _is_ true in a way--Allan _does_ attract attention the moment he reaches the pavement--and of course every one stares at one--but it isn't the poor fellow's fault.

At least, if the boy were at all conscious of it he might in very little ways here and there prevent the very tiniest bit of it--but, my dear, your husband is a man of most striking appearance--especially in the clerical garb--even on that avenue over there where striking persons abound--and it's not to be helped.

And I can't wonder he's not pleased with you when it gives him such pleasure to have a modish and handsome young woman at his side.
I met him the other day walking down from Forty-second Street with that stunning-looking Mrs.Wyeth, and he looked as happy and bubbling as a schoolboy." "Oh--Aunt Bell--but of course, if you don't see, I couldn't possibly tell you." She turned suddenly to her letter, as if to dismiss the hopeless task.
Now Aunt Bell, being entirely human, would not keep silence under an intimation that her powers of discernment were less than phenomenal.

The tone of her reply, therefore, hinted of much.
"My child--I may see and gather and understand much more than I give any sign of." It was a wretchedly empty boast.