"What an odd simile! I cannot understand you." "It is not necessary that you should, but do not wrong me by doubting me again."
"I have done nothing but wrong you, Miss Walton."
"I'm not conscious of it, so you needn't worry, and I assure you I find it a pleasure to do you good."
"Miss Walton, you are the essence of goodness."
"Oh, no, no; why say of a creature what is only true of God? Mr.
Gregory, you are very extravagant in your language."
A scowl darkened his face, and he said, moodily, "God seems to me the essence of cruelty."
"'Seems, seems!' An hour since I seemed a torment, and you were driving me away."
"Yes, but you soon proved yourself a kind, helpful, pitiful friend. I once thought my cheek would flame with anger even if I were dying, should I be regarded as an object of pity. But you, better than any one, know that I am one."
"I, better than any one, know that you are not, in the sense you mean."
"Come, Miss Walton, you cannot be sincere now. Do you think I can ever forget the miserable scene of Monday evening, when you placed yourself beside the martyrs and I sank down among the cowards of any age? I reached the bottom of the only perdition I believe in. I have lost my self-respect."