“Uncle Jeb," we croaked in surprise. "You found us.""Well, now," he said, and his gruff voice brought back a hundred memories. "Well, now, here's a pickle.”
“Well now,” the dragon says to her in a voice like rolling thunder, “who are you really here to save?”
“Well, what did he want?" "Merely to tell you that your uncle, Mr. Eyre of Madeira, is dead; that he has left you all his property, and that you are now rich--merely that--nothing more.”
“You’re mad,” he said in a low voice, “if you think I would leave you now. I’ll see you safe and well no matter what it takes.”
“His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend. His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.”
“We could have touched the stars. Instead, you brought them to us. We didn't have to seek the heavens when we had you here with us now.”