There's no tenderness in your work; it's all technique and biceps." He said gravely: "You are right." "Am I ?...

Do you think you could try to care for me--even for that reason, Duane--to become a better painter ?" "I'm afraid not," he said pleasantly.
There was a silence; her expression changed subtly, then the colour came back and she smiled and nodded adieu.
"Good-bye," she said; "I'm going to get into all sorts of mischief.

The black flag is hoisted.

_Malheur aux hommes!_" "There's one now," said Duane, laughing as Delancy Grandcourt's bulk appeared among the trees along Hurryon Water.

"Lord! what a bungler he is on a trout-stream!" Rosalie turned and gazed at the big, clumsy young man who was fishing with earnestness and method every unlikely pool in sight.
"Does he belong to anybody ?" she asked, considering him.