“My God, she's good-looking!" said Mr. Sandwood, who was just over thirty."Good-looking!" cried Mr. Hedrick contemptuously, "she always looks as if she wanted to be kissed! Turning those big cow-eyes on every calf in town!"It was doubtful if Mr. Hedrick intended a reference to the maternal instinct.”

“Whenever he looks at me with those big brown eyes, I feel like giving him a nut,” she said. She even started calling the squirrels running around in the park Mr. Whitmans.”

“Look at him,” she said, shaking her head. “Travis Maddox: Mr. Mom.”

“I,” I start, and she turns to look at my lips moving, rehearsing for some grand proposal. “I think it’d be good idea if you brought a few books over and left them on my shelf.” I’m a writer, and this is as good as it gets. She didn’t need a ring, just the ability to borrow a bookmark whenever she needed, or unwritten or unspoken permission to take my copy of Cecil Brown’s The Life and Loves of Mr. Jiveass Nigger with the original cover.”

“Mr. Bradford," she said. "I'm not going to propose to you."The twinkle in Mr. Bradford's eyes faded. So did his smile. He managed to keep it on his face. It looked painful."Oh," he said."Mr. Bradford?""Yes?""Would you mind it so very much if...you know...you proposed to me?"The light in Mr. Bradford's eyes jumped to life. He beamed so largely it almost wasn't crooked."If you want.”

“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!”