First, I want to hear all about you,--everything, I mean," she added, with a quick delicacy, of which, for "blundering Gypsy," she had a great deal,--"everything that you care to tell me." "Why, I've nothing to tell," said Peace, smiling, "cooped up here all the time; it's all the same." "That's just what I want to hear about.

About the being cooped up.

I don't see _how you bear it_!" said Gypsy, impetuously.
Peace smiled again.

Gypsy had a fancy that the smile had stolen one of the sunbeams that lay in such golden, flickering waves, upon the bed.
Too much self-depreciation is often a sign of the extremest vanity.

Peace had nothing of this.