Mrs. Campbell: "Yes; that is what took my fancy in you, Willis: that generosity, that real gentleness, in spite of the brusque way you have. Refinement of the heart, I call it."
Campbell: "Amy, what are you after?"
Mrs. Campbell: "We've been married a whole year now—"
Campbell: "Longer, isn't it?"
Mrs. Campbell: "—And I haven't known you do an unkind thing, a brutal thing."
Campbell: "Well, I understand the banging around hardly ever begins much under two years."
Mrs. Campbell: "How sweet you are! And you're so funny always!"
Campbell: "Come, come, Amy; get down to business. What is it you do want?"
Mrs. Campbell: "You won't go and tease that poor boy about his letter, will you? Just hand it to him, and say you suppose here is something that has come into your possession by mistake, and that you wish to restore it to him, and then—just run off."
Campbell: "With my parasol in one hand, and my skirts caught up in the other?"