"Quite likely; the measles, for instance, which I never had to my knowledge. Possibly she has had a lover who was not long in finding a prettier face, and so left her, but not so disconsolate that she could not smile bewilderingly upon you."
"Come now, Stanton, I'll forewarn and forearm you. I confidently predict that the voice of this brown thrush will lure you out of a life which, to put it mildly, is a trifle matter-of-fact and material. You have glanced at her, but you have not seen her yet. Mark my words; your appetite will flag before many weeks pass."
"I wish I could pin you down to a large wager on this absurdity."
"I agree to paint you a picture if my prediction fails."
"And to finish it within a natural lifetime?" said Stanton, with much animation.
"To finish as promptly as good work can be done."
"Pardon me, Van. You had too much wine for dinner; I don't want to take advantage of you."
"I did not have any."
"In order to carry out this transaction honestly, am I expected to make conscious and patient effort to come under the influence of this maiden in brown, who has had some mysterious complaint in the past, about which 'neither you, nor I, nor anybody knows,' as the poet saith: or, like the ancient mariner, will she 'hold me with her glittering eye?'"
"You have only to jog on in your old ways until she wakes you up and makes a man of you."