refinement.

It was necessarily a slow process, but she began to find after a time
that a gradual change was coming over him.

"I want you to grow up a gentleman, Dodger," she said to him one day.

"I'm too rough for that, Florence. I'm only an ignorant street boy."

"You are not going to be an ignorant street boy all your life. I don't
see why you should not grow up a polished gentleman."

"I shall never be like that de Brabazon young man," said he.

"No, Dodger; I don't think you will," said Florence, laughing. "I
don't want you to become effeminate nor a dude. I think I would like
you less than I do now."

"Do you like me, Florence?" asked Dodger, brightening up.

"To be sure I do. I hope you don't doubt it."

"Why, it don't seem natural-like. You're a fashionable young lady----"

"Not very fashionable, Dodger, just at present."

"Well, a high-toned young lady--one of the tip-tops, and I am a rough
Bowery boy."

"You were once, but you are getting over that rapidly. Did you ever