“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.”

“Perriwickturned to Penelope as he set the tray down on a table. "If I might be so bold, my lady-""Perriwick!" Blake roared. "If I hear the phrase 'if I might be so bold' one more time, as God is mywitness, I'm going to toss you into the channel!""Oh dear," Penelope said. "Perhaps he does have the fever, after all.Perriwick , what do you think?"The butler reached for Blake's forehead, only to have his hand nearly bitten off. "Touch me and die,"Blake snarled.”

“This is the real Madame. I can see why she hides herself in accents and gems and exotic perfumes. I can see why she's grown to hate anything to do with love. She isn't evil or corrupt the way that Vaughn is. She's broken. Only broken.”

“But his eyes say what he can’t. I see it, clear as day, even if she doesn’t. He’d give up his wings for her. All she’d have to do is ask.”

“I miss your fragrance, sometimes I miss it this much that I can clearly smell you in the air.”

“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.”