Nevertheless he went on quickly with his questions.
"And when shall you come back to America ?" "Perhaps not for a long time.

I'm very happy here." "Do you mean to give up your country ?" "Don't be an infant!" "Well, you'll be out of my sight indeed!" said Caspar Goodwood.
"I don't know," she answered rather grandly.

"The world--with all these places so arranged and so touching each other--comes to strike one as rather small." "It's a sight too big for ME!" Caspar exclaimed with a simplicity our young lady might have found touching if her face had not been set against concessions.
This attitude was part of a system, a theory, that she had lately embraced, and to be thorough she said after a moment: "Don't think me unkind if I say it's just THAT--being out of your sight--that I like.
If you were in the same place I should feel you were watching me, and I don't like that--I like my liberty too much.

If there's a thing in the world I'm fond of," she went on with a slight recurrence of grandeur, "it's my personal independence." But whatever there might be of the too superior in this speech moved Caspar Goodwood's admiration; there was nothing he winced at in the large air of it.

He had never supposed she hadn't wings and the need of beautiful free movements--he wasn't, with his own long arms and strides, afraid of any force in her.