“I thought you'd like it," he said, seeming hurt. "You look very pretty.”

“I said you LOOKED like an egg, Sir. And some eggs are very pretty, you know.”

“I am sorry, I am very sorry to ask you to lie," he said, so earnestly that I wondered if it hurt him to lie. That made him seem more like a god than a human being. If it hurt to lie, how could you stay alive?”

“I truly thought I might hurt that man," he said, "very badly.""I didn't know you were capable of such bad temper.""Apparently I am.”

“I think I know who you are," he finally said. "It took me a minute, since you're better looking than I thought you'd be, but I think I've got it.”

“And now here he was in my kitchen. Smelling like apple pies and looking at me with a direct seriousness that made him even cuter. The bruising spreading up the side of his face had halted, and under it he was very pretty. Not jock-pretty, or the hurtful kind of pretty that tells you a guy is too busy taking care of his royal self to think about you.”