"Perfect: the air is so crisp . . ."
"Marianne . . ."
"Yes, Uncle . . ."
"No, not uncle . . . You must be my little friend . . . Not a niece . . . I've never had a girl-friend."
"Your little friend? . . . But I am!"
"Well, that's all right."
"Look, how dark it is in the Wood . . . People say it's dangerous. Is it, Uncle? No, I didn't mean to say uncle . . ."
"Sometimes. Are you frightened? Take my arm."
"No, I'm not frightened."
"Come, take my arm."
"I don't mind . . ."
"We shall be home in a minute."
"If only Mamma isn't angry with me, for staying out . . . Are you coming in?"
"No . . . no . . ."
"Not because you're still angry with us?"
"No, I'm not angry."
"That's all right. Oh, I am glad! I should like to give you a motor for making me so happy!"
"Those old tin kettles cost a lot of money . . ."
"Poor Uncle! No, I don't mean uncle . . ."
"Here we are."
He rang the bell.
"Thank you for seeing me home."
