“My name, sir, is Virgilia Wessex. I am a Sunday school teacher from Sussex, England, and I have given you no leave to address me as anything.”His mouth seemed to almost smile, but if so, he caught it just on the brink and decided against it. “Well, I’ve just given the gent who found you first an obscene amount of money to address you however I please… Gillia.”

“Sir, you have now given me my 'cadeau;' I am obliged to you: it is the meed teachers most covet-praise of their pupils' progress.”

“Because you have my heart, Virgilia Wessex.” Softly, almost achingly. “Every black ounce of it. Scars and all.”

“The antique, almost primitive band he held between his fingers caught the sunlight, glinting silver. “I found this ring shortly after I was banished from heaven. I kept it to remind myself of how endless my sentence was, how eternal one small choice can be. I’ve kept it a long time. I want you to have it. You broke my suffering. You’ve given me a new eternity. Be my girl, Nora. Be my everything.”

“Don't cry, Ana, please," he murmurs against my mouth. "It was long ago. I am aching for you to touch me, but I just can't bear it. It's too much. Please, please don't cry.”

“What am I supposed to do? List it beforehand? 'Oh, just a moment, Sir. could you please remove your mouth from my breasticle so I can impress upon you the knowledge of my innocence'? I mean, really!" ~Ace Stanning”