human
After all, you owe me gratitude, she went on hurriedly.
gpt
If it had not been that I’m fickle—oh, I admit as much—you would not stand where you stand now. I remember you so well—gay, easy-going, with a tongue that made one half believe your flattery. And now? You’re Blake the rider—little Blake—Blake who never tires. I see men lift their heads when your name is mentioned, and hear their praise. Did I do so ill at Knaresborough, to set you on the road?
human
You broke my heart. If that was to do well—why, my thanks, Miss Bingham.