Well, maybe I won't be reformed.

Who was it, Bob ?" "The Presbyterian Missionary," he confessed reluctantly, "a nervy little chap named Wynkoop; he came in to see me last night while you were asleep." He faced her open scorn unshrinkingly, his mind fully decided, and clinging to one thought with all the tenacity of his nature.
"A preacher!" her voice vibrant with derision, "a preacher! Well, of all things, Bob Hampton! You led around by the nose in that way! Did he want you to bring me to Sunday school?
A preacher! And I suppose the fellow expects to turn me over to one of his flock for religious instruction.

He'll have you studying theology inside of a year.

A preacher! Oh, Lord, and you agreed! Well, I won't go; so there!" "As I understand the affair," Hampton continued, as she paused for breath, "it was Lieutenant Brant who suggested the idea of his coming to me.

Brant knew Gillis, and remembered you, and realizing your unpleasant situation, thought such an arrangement would be for your benefit." "Brant!" she burst forth in renewed anger; "he did, did he! The putty-faced dandy! I used to see him at Bethune, and you can bet he never bothered his head about me then.