You'll see that I'm right, by-and-by, and thank me for it..." she began solemnly.
"I'll be hanged if I do!" and Laurie bounced up off the grass, burning with indignation at the very idea.
"Yes, you will!" persisted Jo.

"You'll get over this after a while, and find some lovely accomplished girl, who will adore you, and make a fine mistress for your fine house.

I shouldn't.

I'm homely and awkward and odd and old, and you'd be ashamed of me, and we should quarrel--we can't help it even now, you see--and I shouldn't like elegant society and you would, and you'd hate my scribbling, and I couldn't get on without it, and we should be unhappy, and wish we hadn't done it, and everything would be horrid!" "Anything more ?" asked Laurie, finding it hard to listen patiently to this prophetic burst.
"Nothing more, except that I don't believe I shall ever marry.

I'm happy as I am, and love my liberty too well to be in a hurry to give it up for any mortal man." "I know better!" broke in Laurie.