"I know he is not, birdie. At least, I believe he is not."
"I believe him to be so, Charles."
"I know him to be otherwise; at least, I think so."
"Are you doing him justice, Charley dear? Are you sure you are doing him justice?"
"I think so."
"Why?"
"I cannot tell you, Mary. When the end of all things comes, and you and I are thrown abroad like two corks on the great sea, you will know. But I cannot tell you."
"I believe, dear, that you are so honest that you would not do injustice even to him. But, oh! be sure that you are right. Hush! Change the subject. What were you going to read when that unlucky book fell downstairs?"
"Demosthenes."
"Let me come in and sit with you, Charley dear, and look out the words; you don't know how clever I am. Is it the 'De Coronâ'?"