“Is she always like that?”“Like what?” Sara asked absently, staring a^ the letter in her hands.“Floating about as if she was a blasted fairy.”

“She looked into the staring glass eyes and complacent face, and suddenly a sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She lifted her little savage hand and knocked Emily off the chair, bursting into a passion of sobbing- Sara who never cried.”

“She laced her fingers through his. "Good night," she whispered. With their hands clasped like children in a fairy tale, she fell asleep beside him in the dark.”

“The mere seeing of Miss Sara would have been enough without meat pies. If there was time only for a few words, they were always friendly, merry words that put heart into one...Sara--who was only doing what she unconsciously liked better than anything else, Nature having made her for a giver--had not the least idea what she meant to poor Becky, and how wonderful a benefactor she seemed.”

“Just like a damned man, he thought exasperatedly. She got what she wanted, then curled up and went to sleep.That was what he was supposed to do, blast and confound her bloody impudence.”

“Do you like her'''Of course!' What a question! Like asking her if she believe in God.”