“Isn't she?”
“But mine is so good.”
“Mine is very good, too, Ruperta. Wonderfully good.”
“I like you, Compton—a little.”
“I like you a good deal, Ruperta.”
“La, do you? I wonder at that: you are like a cherub, and I am such a black thing.”
“But that is why I like you. Reginald is darker than you, and oh, so beautiful!”
“Hum!—he is a very bad boy.”
“No, he is not.”
“Don't tell stories, child; he is. I know all about him. A wicked, vulgar, bad boy.”