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I'd be proud faw you to have a kitt'n, but, you know, cats don't suit yo' dear motheh's high strung natu'e. You couldn't be happy with anything that was a constant tawment to her, could you?" The head lying against the questioner's back nodded an eager yes! "Oh, you think you might, son, but I jes' know you couldn't. Now, what I've got faw you is ever so much nicer'n a kitt'n.
I'm a man o' rich an' abundant natu'e an' ought to a-got a spouse consistent with my joys an' destinies. I may have to make a sawt o' Emp'ess Josephine o' her ef she lives. "Y'ought to see the nex' one! Seh? Engaged? No, not yit; she as shy as a crow an' ezac'ly the same colo'! I'm done with light-complected women, seh. But y'ought to see this-yeh one! Shy as a pa't'idge! But I'm hot on her trail.
This was she who at every new encounter had opened to him a higher revelation of woman's worth and loveliness than the world had ever shown him; she to whom he had been writing letters half last night and all this morning, tearing each to bits before he had finished it because he could see no life ahead which an unselfish love could ask her to live, and as he rent the result of each fresh effort hearing the voice of his father saying to him as in childhood days, "I'd be proud faw you to have the kitt'n, son, but, you know, she wouldn't suit yo' dear motheh's high-strung natu'e.
'Cause thass my natu'e, Mistoo Itchlin; I gatheh honey eve'y day fum eve'y opening floweh, as the bahd of A-von wemawk." So they went on. Ad infinitum? Ah, no!
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