'Now, Rosa, you know very well what I mean, my dear.'

'Well then, why did you begin with your detestable red-nosed
giantesses? And she would, she would, she would, she would, she
WOULD powder it!' cries Rosa, in a little burst of comical
contradictory spleen.

'Somehow or other, I never can come right in these discussions,'
says Edwin, sighing and becoming resigned.

'How is it possible, sir, that you ever can come right when you're
always wrong? And as to Belzoni, I suppose he's dead;--I'm sure I
hope he is--and how can his legs or his chokes concern you?'

'It is nearly time for your return, Rosa. We have not had a very
happy walk, have we?'

'A happy walk? A detestably unhappy walk, sir. If I go up-stairs
the moment I get in and cry till I can't take my dancing lesson,
you are responsible, mind!'

'Let us be friends, Rosa.'

'Ah!' cries Rosa, shaking her head and bursting into real tears, 'I
wish we COULD be friends! It's because we can't be friends, that
we try one another so. I am a young little thing, Eddy, to have an
old heartache; but I really, really have, sometimes. Don't be
angry. I know you have one yourself too often. We should both of
us have done better, if What is to be had been left What might have
been. I am quite a little serious thing now, and not teasing you.