“I’ve met nearly every woman in this room, and I can’t think of one who would make a better friend. I’d be glad to have you stay."My relief was inexpressible."Do you think," Maxon asked, "That I could still call you ‘my dear’?" "Not a chance." I whispered.”

“Do you think, that I could still call you 'my dear'?”

“Upon my word, sir, your hope is a rather extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make ME happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation.”

“Don’t you have something to do? (Sin)If not for the fact it would result in your breaking every bone in my body and making me cry for Mommy, I’d be calling some cops. As it stands, I think my neck is best served by trying to talk sense into you. (Kish)”

“I can’t believe you were going to call me a liar and take my place under the guillotine. Next time I try to save you, woman, you better stay saved. (Fury)”

“Jillian,” I whispered, “I know you don’t know who I am. But I love your brother, and I know you do too. So . . . do you think you could wake up? Do you think you could at least try?” For far too long she gave me no response. I’d just about given up—hung my head and prepared myself for the inevitable, impossible job of comforting Joshua—when Jillian whispered back. “I guess. Since you asked so nicely.” In spite of everything, a quiet laugh escaped my lips. “Thank God. Because I have a feeling you’d be a huge pain in the ass if you died.”