"I wont."
"Am I deceived? No, no, it can't be true. I will not believe—"
"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you two hundred to get rid of you."
Mr. Ricketty picked up a little hand-glass that lay upon the counter and placed it before her face.
"Look there," he said, "and tell me what it is that makes Rebecca so heartless. Not those lustrous eyes, so frank and warm; not that—"
"Oh, now, stop that."
"Not that sensitive, shapely nose—"
"Well, I thank goodness it's got no such bulge on it as yours."
"Not those refined lips, arched like the love-god's bow and many times as dangerous; not those cheeks—those soft peach-tinted cheeks, telling in dainty blushes—"
"Oh, six bright stars!"