“My face grew hot. "We were discussing the investigation," I told him quickly. "He was here a quarter of an hour at the most."Father smiled at me sadly. "My dear girl, if you din't know what mischief can be gotten up to in a quarter of an hour you are no child of mine.”

“It will be full dark soon, and I do not like the look of that sky. The temperature is falling as well," he added, rubbing his hands together briskly. "I think we shall be in for a bit of snow from the look of the cloud just over the Downs." Naturally the gentlemen had to spend another quarter of an hour debating the weather as the ladies stood shivering, Portia rolling her eyes at me behind Father's back. In the end they all agreed that, yes, it was indeed growing colder and darker and we ought to depart at once for the Abbey.”

“I would give up everything for you, Giulia"I smiled at him gently. "But you must understand. I should never want a man to give up anything for me. I should want him to feel in winning me he has won the whole world...”

“Julia, we are all children at Christmastime.”“You are not,” I pointed out.He gave me a shadowy smile. “I think you told me once I was born old.”

“A tiny smile played over his lips as he glanced down at my hand. "Do you mean to win me over with feminine wiles? I must admit it is a more diverting notion than your usual method of screaming at me like a fishwife."I did not rise to the bait. I simply looked at him. "Please."He caught his breath, a slow smile warming his features. "My god, you are trying to seduce me.""I am not." I said primly. "I am merely trying to get your attention."He bent swiftly and kissed me hard, pulling back so suddenly I nearly toppled over. "I believe I have already made it quite clear you have my attention.”

“I reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Do not be too angry with Father. He did not mean it not really." "Angry? I feel rather sorry for him. We are kindred spirits," he observed with a wry twist of his mouth. "How so?" "We both suffer because you will not understand how utterly essential you are to our happiness.”

“He had strong, steady hands, and I could tell from looking at them there was little he couldn't do. Mossy always said you could tell everything you needed to know about a man from his hands. Some hands, she told me, were leaving hands. They were the wandering sort that slipped into places they shouldn't, and they would wander right off again because those hands just couldn't stay still. Some hands were worthless hands, fit only to hold a drink or flick ash from a cigar, and some were punishing hands that hit hard and didn't leave a mark and those were the ones you never stayed to see twice.But the best hands were knowing hands, Mossy told me with a slow smile. Knowing hands were capable; they could soothe a horse or woman. They could take things apart -- including your heart -- and put them back together better than before. Knowing hands were rare, but if you found them, they were worth holding, at least for a little while.”