"You don't understand this town yet.
You'll be surprised when you do; we're different.

We talk about one another fearfully! Haven't I just proved it, the way I've been going for Henrietta?
Of course I didn't say anything really very terrible about her, but that's only because I don't follow that practice the way most of the others do.

They don't stop with the worst of the truth they can find: they make UP things--yes, they really do! And, oh, I'd RATHER they didn't make up things about me--to you!" "What difference would it make if they did ?" he inquired, cheerfully.
"I'd know they weren't true." "Even if you did know that, they'd make a difference," she said.

"Oh, yes, they would! It's too bad, but we don't like anything quite so well that's had specks on it, even if we've wiped the specks off;--it's just that much spoiled, and some things are all spoiled the instant they're the least bit spoiled.

What a man thinks about a girl, for instance.