You could not have read it." "I had only read one notice of it--that was enough." "And you could write that letter to me solely as the evidence of one wretched print?
Oh, Phyllis!" Pain was in his voice.

It may have been in his face as well, but she did not see it; his face was averted from her.
"Yes," she said quietly; "I wrote that letter, Mr.Holland.You see, the paper gave large extracts from the book.

I did not come to my conclusion from what the newspaper article said, but from what you had said in your book--from the quoted passages." "They did not do me justice.

I did not look for justice at their hands.
But you, Phyllis----" "I have read your book now, Mr.Holland----" "Ah, let me plead with you, Phyllis--not 'Mr.Holland,' I entreat of you." "And my first thought on reading it was that I had not written to you so strongly as I should have done." "My dear Phyllis, do not say that, I beg of you.

You cannot know how you pain me." "To be misunderstood by you--_you_." She got upon her feet so quickly that it might almost be said she sprang up.
"_You_ must have misunderstood _me_ greatly, Mr.Holland, if you fancied that you could write such a book as you wrote and not get such a letter from me.