"From your look and manner."
"Are you not tired to death of New Baden?"
"Not yet."
"I am. What is it all worth?—weary, and vapid, and flat, and stale, and unprofitable! I have had enough of it."
"Then why not change it?"
"To find the same thing in a new shape!"
"Pardon me if I call that a freak of the moment. You are the gayest of the gay."
"No, I am not."
"You are a belle here; a centre light. The moths flutter about you, though you do, now and then, singe their wings. You frighten them, and they repay you with fine speeches."
"I am weary of them. For Heaven's sake, abuse me a little. I know you have it often in your heart."