Wives, like poets, are born, not made.

I shall talk to you on marriage and husbands; I have some original ideas, I assure you." "Now I can well believe that!" declared Richard, much tumbled about in his mind.

Bess's harangue left him wondering whether she might not be possessed of a mild mania on wedlock and husbands.
"You need have no misgivings," returned Bess, as though reading his thoughts; "you will find me sane to the verge of commonplace." Richard's stare was the mate to Mr.Fopling's; he could not decide just how to lay hold on the sibyl of the golden locks.

Perceiving him wandering in his wits, Dorothy took him up warmly.
"Can't you see Bess is laughing at you ?" she cried.
"You know her so much better than I," argued Richard, in extenuation of his dullness.

"Some day I hope to be so well acquainted with Miss Marklin as to know when she laughs." "You are to know her as well as I do," returned Dorothy, with decision, "for Bess is my dearest friend." "And that, I'm sure," observed Richard, craftily measuring forth a two-edged compliment, "is the highest possible word that could be spoken of either." At this speech Dorothy was visibly disarmed; whereat Richard congratulated himself.
"To be earnest with you, Mr.Storms," said Bess, with just a flash of teasing wickedness towards Dorothy, "I go about, even now, carrying the impression of knowing you extremely well.