"You would soon wish yourself back, if you had no more feeling for him that that," reproved Miss Chapman.
"Catch me! Not even if he had a hump, or kept a mistress, or was over eighty. Oh dear, oh dear!"—she stretched herself so violently that her bones cracked; to resume, in a tone of ordinary conversation: "I do wish I knew whether to put a brown wing or a green one in that blessed hat of mine."
Miss Chapman's face straightened out from its shocked expression. "Your hat? Why do you want to change it? It's very nice as it is."
"My dear Miss Chapman, it's at least six months out of date.—Ziely, you're crying!"
"I'm not," said Miss Zielinski weakly, caught in the act of blowing her nose.
"How on earth can you cry over a book? As if it were true!"
"I thank God I haven't such a cold heart as you."
"And I thank God I'm not a romantic idiot. But your name's not Thekla for nothing I suppose."
"My name's as good as yours. And I won't be looked down on because my father was once a German."
"'Mr. Kayser, do you vant to buy a dawg?'" hummed Miss Snodgrass.