"I've ruined this rod," said I.
"You may take mine," humbly sweet.
But I feared her gifts and her contrition.
A light breath—a ghost of a sigh escaped her.
"I'm such a beast," she said.... "But I've never before taken the trouble to be beastly to a man—if that flatters you at all, Don Michael."
"It does not," said I, coolly.
"It should," she retorted.
"Do you know what I think?" said I, turning, after the manner of other worms.
"What?"
"I think you overestimate your own importance. And that you'd be far more attractive if you were not too bally busy thinking about yourself every minute."