“Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father; "she times them ill.”

“Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.”

“And she leaned back in the corner, to indulge her murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both—such being the commonest process of a not ill-disposed mind.”

“And Anne could have said much, and did long to say a little in defence of her friend's not very dissimilar claims to theirs, but her sense of personal respect to her father prevented her. She made no reply. She left it to himself to recollect, that Mrs Smith was not the only widow in Bath between thirty and forty, with little to live on, and no surname of dignity.”

“Oh hang kitty; what has she to do with it? Come, be quick. Be quick. Where is your sash?”

“He knew her illnesses; they never occurred but for her own convenience.”

“Ever since her being turned into a Churchill, she has out-Churchill'd them all in high and mighty claims.”