“Jo's nineteen hair-pins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which was not exactly comfortable; but, dear me, let us be elegant or die!”
“Meg's high-heeled slippers were dreadfully tight, and hurt her, though she would not own it; and Jo's nineteen hair-pins all seemed stuck straight into her head, which was not exactly comfortable; but, dear me, let us be elegant or die.”
“...but, dear me, let us be elegant or die.”
“Let us be elegant or die!”
“…books are always good company if you have the right sort. Let me pick out some for you.' And Mrs. Jo made a bee-line to the well-laden shelves, which were the joy of her heart and the comfort of her life.”
“What have you done to your hair?” Mom’s broken voice said, pinning me back to this tiny hospitalroom.“Holy shit!” Icka patted her head as if searching. “You think the nurse stole it? She looked shady.”