“While she lay there with these old worn thoughts coming obediently into her mind, called there by habit and the familiar quiet of early morning, she was aware that at the back of her mind there was another thought that was not at all stale, but so fresh that it was nearly a feeling, with all a feeling's delicious power to kill thought.”

“Far in the back of her mind she was thinking. But she could not dredge up these half-formed feelings, these obscure bits of ideas, into clear, definite thoughts. . . . Her mind ticked away, singing a song she could not decipher.”

“In the early hours of the morning the house was dark and quiet. […] and Elizabeth lay in bed wide awake. Images of Mr. Darcy’s face, his nod, and his tall, handsome demeanour flooded her thoughts. She knew that even if she were spared these thoughts by sleep coming upon her, he would invade her dreams. And when she did fall asleep just before dawn,he was there just as she had expected.”

“Well, she thought, that big old dawg with the hatred in his eyes had killed her after all.”

“Allie noticed it all, every sound, every thought. Her senses had come alive, invigorating her, and she felt her mind drifting through the last few weeks.”

“Not special at all.” She changed her mind and leaned in to take a cookie. “I just heard my number called and thought I’d better show up.”