"Don't--oh, don't! I'd die before I'd go into your own real home! Of course, I'll not be a burden on you.

I'm too proud for that, I hope." "Well, dope it out your own way, Sis," said her room-mate, sighing.
"It ain't true that I want to shake you.

I don't.

But I'm not talking about Mary Warren when she had money her aunt left her--before she lost it in Oil.

I'm not talking about Mary Warren when she was eighteen, and pretty as a picture.