“Miss Trent regarded her thoughtfully. "Well, it's an odd circumstance, but I've frequently observed that whenever you boast of your beauty you seem to lose some of it. I expect it must be the change in your expression."Startled, Tiffany flew to gaze anxiously into the ornate looking-glass which hung above the fireplace. "Do I?" she asked naively. "Really do I, Ancilla?""Yes, decidedly," replied Miss Trent, perjuring her soul without the least hesitation.”

“What are you doing now?" Al questioned "Seeing if your circumcision is gone? It is.My expression went blank, and Trent hesitated.He looked at me, and I put a hand to my mouth, face flaming. "Oh. My. God. Trent. I'm sorry""Um" Trent said, clearly at a loss."Call me tomorrow," Al said seriously, "I've got a curse that will take care of that. Unless you like the snake in a turtleneck look”

“I'm not ashamed of wanting you. And yes, I've missed touching you, and holding you, and I want that again. But that isn't all I've missed about you since you left town." He placed his palms on the sides of her face, bringing her gaze back to his. "I've missed the way you glance around when you think your karma is going to zap you. I miss watching you walk and the way you push your hair behind your ears. I miss the sound of your voice, and that you try to be a vegetarian and can't. I miss that you believe you're a pacifist even as you shock me on the arm. I've missed everything about you, Gabrielle.”

“Connor tries to hold her arm to give her support, but she shakes him off and throws him a nasty gaze. "If I want your help, I'll ask. Do I look feeble to you?" "Actually, yes.""Looks are deceiving." she says. " After all, when I saw you, I thought you looked reasonably intelligent." "Very funny.”

“Is there anything else I can do to see to your comfort, Miss Trent?" Perriwick inquired."She's fine," Blake growled."Clearly, she--""Perriwick, isn't the west wing on fire?"Perriwick blinked, sniffed the air, and stared at his employer in dismay. "I do not understand sir.”

“I said, Quiet!"Tiffany was so much startled by this peremptory reminder that she gasped, and stood staring up at the Nonesuch as though she could not believe that he was speaking not to his cousin, but actually to her. She drew in her breath audibly, and clenched her hands. Miss Trent cast a look of entreaty at sir Waldo, but he ignored it. He strolled up to the infuriated beauty, and pushed up her chin."Now, you may listen to me, my child!" he said sternly. "You are becoming a dead bore, and I don't tolerate bores. Neither do I tolerate noisy tantrums. Unless you want to be soundly smacked, enact me no ill-bred scenes!"There was a moment's astonished silence. Laurence broke it, seizing his cousin's hand, and fervently shaking it. "I knew you was a right one!" he declared. "A great gun, Waldo! Damme, a Trojan!”