"You won't! Is that answer to go for always?"
"Yes, it is. You come and tease and say uncivil things, and I don't choose to be bullied. What right have you to talk to me about Mr. Newton? Did I ever give you any right? Honest indeed! What right have you to talk to me about being honest?"
"It's all true, dear."
"Very well, then. Hold your tongue, and don't say such things. Honest indeed! If I were to take the young man to-morrow, that would not make me dishonest."
"It's all true, dear, and I beg your pardon. If I have offended you, I will beg your pardon."
"Never mind about that;—only don't say foolish things."
"Is it foolish, Polly, to say that I love you? And if I love you, can I like to see a young fellow like Mr. Newton hanging about after you? He doesn't love you. He can't love you,—as I do. Your father brings him here because he is a gentleman."
"I don't think anything of his being a gentleman."
"But think of me. Of course I was unhappy, wretched,—miserable. I knew why he was there. You can understand, Polly, that when a man really loves he must be the miserablest or the happiest of human beings."
"I don't understand anything about it."