"But understand that I like you far better for owning up.

There are men--there is a clergyman in our neighbourhood for one--capable of pretending a knowledge of Latin which they don't possess." "Doesn't Mr.Whitmore know Latin ?" I asked.
"Hey?
Who told you I was speaking of Whitmore ?" I glanced at Isabel, for her eyes drew me.

They were fixed on me almost in terror.
"I have heard him talk it, sir." "Excuse me: you may have heard him pretending." "But, papa--" Isabel put forth a hand as if in protest, and I noted that it trembled and that the ring was missing which she had worn overnight.

"You never told me that he--that Mr.Whitmore--" "Was an impostor?
My dear, had you any occasion to seek my opinion of him, or had I any occasion to give it?
None, I think: and but for Master Revel's incomprehensible guess you had not discovered it now.

I have been betrayed into gossip." He turned abruptly and, feeling with his hand over the surface of the summer-house table, picked up a small volume lying there.