I know he's good, real good and steady, and it ain't against him that he ain't rich and has to work for his living, but I tell you, Ellen Brewster, you ain't the right sort to marry a man like that, and have a lot of children to work in shops.

No man, if he thinks anything of you, ought to ask you to; but all a man thinks of is himself.

Granville Joy, or any other man who wanted you, would take you and spoil you, and think he'd done a smart thing." Abby spoke with such intensity that it redeemed her from coarseness.

Ellen continued to look at her, and two red spots had come on her cheeks.
"I don't believe I'll ever get married at all," she said.
"If you've got to get married, you ought to marry somebody like young Mr.Lloyd," said Abby.
Then Ellen blushed, and pushed past her indignantly.
"Young Mr.Lloyd!" said she.

"I don't want him, and he doesn't want me.