And after a moment: "Are you coming ?" "See here, Kathleen," he said, "you're not acting squarely with me." "What do you mean ?" "No, you're not.

I'm a man, and you know it." "Of course you are, Scott." "Then I wish you'd recognise it.

What's the use of mortifying me when I act--speak--behave as any man behaves who--who--is--fond of a--person." "But I don't mean to--to mortify you.

What have I done ?" He dug his hands into the pockets of his riding breeches, took two or three short turns along the bank, came back to where she was standing.
"You probably don't remember," he said, "one night this spring when--when--" He stopped short.

The vivid tint in her cheeks was his answer--a swift, disconcerting answer to an incomplete question, the remainder of which he himself had scarcely yet analysed.
"Scott, dear," she said steadily, in spite of her softly burning cheeks, "I will be quite honest with you if you wish.