I couldn't tell any such ridiculous lie about a beauty to encourage a single woman in England in too excessive a modesty." "It is all pretence--what you are saying!" exclaimed Bathsheba, laughing in spite of herself at the sly method.

"You have a rare invention, Sergeant Troy.

Why couldn't you have passed by me that night, and said nothing ?--that was all I meant to reproach you for." "Because I wasn't going to.

Half the pleasure of a feeling lies in being able to express it on the spur of the moment, and I let out mine.

It would have been just the same if you had been the reverse person--ugly and old--I should have exclaimed about it in the same way." "How long is it since you have been so afflicted with strong feeling, then ?" "Oh, ever since I was big enough to know loveliness from deformity." "'Tis to be hoped your sense of the difference you speak of doesn't stop at faces, but extends to morals as well." "I won't speak of morals or religion--my own or anybody else's.
Though perhaps I should have been a very good Christian if you pretty women hadn't made me an idolater." Bathsheba moved on to hide the irrepressible dimplings of merriment.
Troy followed, whirling his crop.
"But--Miss Everdene--you do forgive me ?" "Hardly." "Why ?" "You say such things." "I said you were beautiful, and I'll say so still; for, by--so you are! The most beautiful ever I saw, or may I fall dead this instant! Why, upon my--" "Don't--don't! I won't listen to you--you are so profane!" she said, in a restless state between distress at hearing him and a _penchant_ to hear more.
"I again say you are a most fascinating woman.