I Don't Know How It Is...but You

God Knows I'm No Saint, But I Don't Think I'm More Of A Sinner Than Any Other Man.

Did You Imagine That You Would Make Me Believe Ill Of Sophy With Your Foolish And Spiteful Letter!' He Demanded. 'you Have Tried To Set Me Against Her From The Outset, But You Over-reached Yourself Today, My Girl! How Dared You Write In Such Terms To Me! How Could You Have Been So Crassly Stupid As To Suppose That Sophy Could Ever Need Your Countenance To Set Her Right In The Eyes Of The World, Or That I Would Believe One Word Of Slander Against Her?

The More Enchanted The Idyll, Greater Must Be The Pain Of Its Ending.

You’ve No More For Me Than I Have For You.” Considerably Disconcerted By This Direct Attack, She Stammered: “how Can You Say So? When I Am Sure I Have Always Been Most Sincerely Attached To You!” “you Deceive Yourself, Sister: Not To Me, But To My Purse!

Do You Recall Fred Merriville?” She Stared At Him. “fred Merriville? Pray, What Has He To Say To Anything?” “the Poor Fellow Has Nothing To Say: He’s Dead, Alas!