I am twenty-seven; there has never been a death in my family, or among my intimate friends." "Have you any intimate friends ?" "Well--perhaps not--in the strict sense.

I don't confide." "Have you never cared, very much, for anybody--any woman ?" "Not sentimentally," he returned, laughing.

"Do you think that a good course of modern flirtation--a thorough schooling in the old-fashioned misfortunes of true love would inject into my canvases that elusively occult quality they're all howling for ?" She remained smilingly silent.
"Perhaps something less strenuous would do," he said, mischievously--"a pretty amourette ?--just one of those gay, frivolous, Louis XV affairs with some daintily receptive girl, not really improper, but only ultra fashionable.

Do you think _that_ would help some, Valerie ?" She raised her eyes, still smiling, a little incredulous, very slightly embarrassed: "I don't think your painting requires any such sacrifices of you, Mr.
Neville....

Are you going to take me somewhere to dinner?
I'm dreadfully hungry." "You poor little girl, of course I am.