“Sometimes, when Bridget was in a particularly melodious mood, Sophie thought about stalking downstairs and pushing her into the oven like the with in 'Hansel and Gretel.”

“I suspect he's sweet on Sophie and doesn't like to see her work too hard.'Tessa was glad to hear it. She'd felt awful about her reaction to Sophie's scar, and the thought that Sophie had a male admirer - and a handsome one like that- eased her conscience slightly. 'Perhaps he's in love with Agatha', she said.'I hope not. I intend to marry Agatha myself. She may be a thousand years old, but she makes an incomparable jam tart. Beauty fades, but cooking is eternal.”

“Their grandchildren had reminded Will of the song about demon pox he had taught them- when they were much too young, Tessa had always thought- and that they had all memorized. They sang it all together and out of tune, scandalizing Sophie.”

“Well, what? Sophie-""I hit her on the head with a mirror," Sophie said hopelessly. "One of those silver-backed ones, so it was quite heavy. She went down just like a stone, miss. So I...I tied her to the bed and I came looking for you.”

“Mr. Branwell and Mr. Carstairs seem to have no problem cleaning their boots,”Sophie said, looking darkly from Will to Tessa. “Perhaps you could learn from their example.”“Perhaps,” said Will. “But I doubt it.”Sophie scowled, and started off along the corridor again, her shoulders tightly set with indignation.Tessa looked at Will in amazement. “What was that?”Will shrugged lazily. “Sophie enjoys pretending she doesn’t like me.”“Doesn’t like you? She hates you!”

“The melody rolled over her, as cool and sweet as water, as hopeful and lovely as sunrise.”

“There was something about Jace, though, that made her want to push him, crack that shell of cynicism and make him admit her believed something, felt something, cared about anythinng at all.”