She stood looking at me, and, of course, I stood looking at her. "Am I pretty?" "Yes; I think you are very pretty." "Am I insulting?" "Not so much so as you were last time," said I. "Not so much so?" "No." She fired when she asked the last question, and she slapped my face with such force as she had, when I answered it. "Now," said she. "You little course monster, what do you think of me now?" "I shall not tell you." "Because you are going to tell upstairs. Is that it?" "No," said I. "That is not it." "Why don't you cry again, you little wretch?" "Because I'll never cry for you again," said I.
