Said she, "Do you?"
Was she a witch verily? There was sorcery in her breath; sorcery in her hair: the ends of it stung him like little snakes.
"How do I do it, Dick?" she flung back, laughing.
"Like you do everything, Bella," he said, and took breath.
"There! I won't be a witch; I won't be a witch: they may burn me to a cinder, but I won't be a witch!"
She sang, throwing her hair about, and stamping her feet.
"I suppose I look a figure. I must go and tidy myself."
"No, don't change. I like to see you so." He gazed at her with a mixture of wonder and admiration. "I can't think you the same person— not even when you laugh."
"Richard," her tone was serious, "you were going to speak to me of my parents."
"How wild and awful you looked, Bella!"