I don't like him as well as Mr.James Duncan." Sylvia looked at her with quick alarm.

"The man who wrote you last week ?" "Yes, and wanted to know if there was a hotel here so he could come." "I thought--" began Sylvia.
"Yes, I had begun the letter, telling him the hotel wasn't any good, because I knew he would know what that meant--that there was no use in his asking me to marry him again, because I never would; but now I think I shall tell him the hotel is not so bad, after all," said Rose.
"But you don't mean--" "I don't know what I do mean," said Rose, nervously.

"Yes, I do know what I mean.

I always know what I mean, but I don't know what men mean making me drop candy I have had given me, and trampling on it, and men don't know that I know what I mean." Rose was almost crying.
"Go up-stairs and lay down a little while before dinner," said Sylvia, anxiously.
"No," replied Rose; "I am going to help you.

Don't, please, think I am crying because I feel badly.