human
Ah! Robert, you do not like old maids. I, too, should come under the lash of your sarcasm if I were an old maid.
gpt
You an old maid! he had replied.
human
A piquant notion suggested by lips of that tint and form. I can fancy you, though, at forty, quietly dressed, pale and sunk, but still with that straight nose, white forehead, and those soft eyes. I suppose, too, you will keep your voice, which has another 'timbre' than that hard, deep organ of Miss Mann's. Courage, Cary! Even at fifty you will not be repulsive.
gpt
Miss Mann did not make herself, or tune her voice, Robert.
human
Nature made her in the mood in which she makes her briars and thorns; whereas for the creation of some women she reserves the May morning hours, when with light and dew she wooes the primrose from the turf and the lily from the wood-moss.