“...she forced herself to relax her shoulders and affect a tone of bored insouciance that the Widow would have approved, and said, "I shall need a map. And a pistol.”

“She felt both relaxed and protected with him, at least from outside forces. Nothing, it seemed, could protect her from him, and tonight she wasn’t even certain she wanted to be. Claimed, and mated. She was his, but was he hers? And if he was, what in hell did they do about it?“I don’t even know what you want,” she said fretfully, beginning to lose herself in rising sensation.“This,” he muttered in a dark, rough tone. “You.Everything.”

“She herself was of the opinion that there would have been no need for a wish consultant if grammar had been taught properly in schools, so that mundanes could be trained to mean exactly what they said. Not wishing to be rude to her guest, however, she kept this opinion to herself.”

“Bob," I said over my shoulder. "Tell her it's me.""Can't," Bob said in a dreamy tone. "Boobs.”

“The way I see it,” she began, “your mother’s devoted her whole life to you kids.” She said “you kids” in precisely the same tone I would have used for “you infestation of cockroaches”

“How shall I ever tell Aunt Shaw?' she whispered, after some time of delicious silence. 'Let me speak to her.' 'Oh, no! I owe it to her, - but what will she say?' 'I can guess. Her first exclamation will be, "That man!" ' 'Hush!' said Margaret, 'or I shall try and show you your mother's indignant tones as she says, "That woman!" ”