“They might not need me; but they might.I'll let my head be just in sight;A smile as small as mine might bePrecisely their necessity.”

“Let's not pretend that I couldn't get you to do whatever I asked of you," he hissed, shoving harder against me when I tried breaking free again. The impact and firmnedd of his body against mine brought a sound to the surface from me. "Let's not pretend that, even though you might hate me, you wouldn't let me do anything to you I wanted." His head dropped to my neck, and the next thing I felt was his mouth warming the skin at the base of it. His mouth never touched me, just his warm breath, and even with that small intimacy, my eyes closed, my head rolled back, and I moaned again.”

“I might be confused sometimes in my head but it is not something you need to talk about. Before you can talk you have to line it all up in order and I had rather just let it swirl around until I am too tired to think. You just let the motion in your head wear you out. Never think about it. You just make a bigger mess that way.”

“You keep talking like that, Vane, and I might be forced to keep you.”“You keep looking at me like that, and I just might let you.”

“Smile at strangers and you just might change a life.”

“And they need not cause you grief. As my Highland grandmother said—and she had the Sight—“Tis not the dead ye have to be concerned about! Beware of the Living!” And she was a wise woman. The dead are beyond your help or mine, poor things. But the living need us. Thirty souls at the least, Phryne, are still on that island to praise God who might now be angels—or devils.”