Mr.Stanford was sauntering down the avenue, a fishing-rod over his shoulder, and his bride-elect on his arm.
"Altered! How ?" "I don't know how," said Grace, "but he has altered.

There is something changed about him; I don't know what.

I don't think he is settled in his mind." "My dear Grace, what are you talking about?
Not settled in his mind! A man who is about to marry the handsomest girl in North America ?" "I don't care for that.

I wouldn't trust Mr.Reginald Stanford as far as I could see him." "You wouldn't?
But then you are an oddity, Grace.

What do you suspect him of ?" "Never mind; my suspicions are my own.