“Really rather fascinating, you know,' he confided, and I recognized, with an internal sigh, the song of the scholar, as identifying a sound as the terr-whit! of a thrush.”
“Sounds good. Drive safe."He sighed, knowing I really meant, "Take care of my Mercedes.”
“You are mine,” he asserted in that sharpened, confident-sounding drawl. “I know it; you know it. And so will anyone else who looks at you.”
“His own opinion, which he does not air, is that the origin of speech lie in song, and the origins of song in the need to fill out with sound the overlarge and rather empty human soul.”
“He did say I fascinated him, but he really should have clarified to me that I was just the fascination for the day.”
“But I know how much you care for me. I read it in the ribbon. Lorcan sighed. Did you really need to read the ribbon to know that I cared for you?, he said. Really, Grace, don't you know me at all?I thought I did, she said”