Les Beaux Dimanches (1898)

M'Closky . Ask the color in your face: d'ye think I can’t read you, like a book? With your New England hypocrisy, you would persuade yourself that it was this family alone you cared for; it ain’t–you know it ain’t–‘tis the Octoroon ; and you love her as I do; and, you hate me because I’m your rival–that’s where the tears come from, Salem Scudder, if you ever shed any–that’s where the shoe pinches.