Do you know, I think that you have been rather unkind to me.

I have scarcely seen you alone since you have been here." She laughed softly, and took up her little dog into her arm as though to use him for a shield.
"My dear Cecil," she said earnestly, "please don't make love to me.

I like you so much, and I should hate to feel that you were boring me.
Every man with whom I am alone for ten minutes thinks it his duty to say foolish things to me, and I can assure you that I am past it all.

A few years ago it was different.

To-day there are only three things in the world I care for--my little spaniel here, bridge, and money." His face darkened a little.
"You did not talk like this in London," he reminded her.
"Perhaps not," she admitted.