“I was woefully ignorant in the social graces. I was being raised, after all, by Pellinore Warthrop.”

“I might have kissed her here," said Pellinore Warthrop to himself--the fugitive, the prisoner. "I do not remember.”

“Our fathers had bequeathed us nothing but memories. A fire had stripped me of all tangible tokens, save my little hat; Alistair Warthrop had taken most of what had belonged to Pellinore. What remained of them was simply us, and when we departed, so would they. We were the tablets upon which their lives were writ.”

“Why did I accept death? But I will ask,what use was life to me after that revolver had been raised against me by the being I adored?”

“I experience religious dread whenever I find myself thinking that I know the limits of God’s grace, since I am utterly certain it exceeds any imagination a human being might have of it. God does, after all, so love the world.”

“I am grieved at what you tell me," said Pellinore, "but I believe that God can change destiny. I must have faith in that.”