"Perhaps you'll feel differently when you know--when you know--!" Isabel met his hesitation.

"When I know what ?" "That she's all right." "What do you mean by that ?" "Well, that we've come to an understanding." "She's all wrong," said Isabel.

"It won't do." Poor Rosier gazed at her half-pleadingly, half-angrily; a sudden flush testified to his sense of injury.

"I've never been treated so," he said.
"What is there against me, after all?
That's not the way I'm usually considered.

I could have married twenty times." "It's a pity you didn't.