But this is a thing that I know--to live with fear is not to live at all. A man will die every moment he is afraid.

She didn't look at me and I didn't look at her. Some questions are so direct the only way to ask them is sideways.

I will make arrangements for you and Portia to return to London the following day. I will be closing up the house. I am leaving England for a while." "For how long?" I asked him, determined to keep my composure. "Until I am quite recovered from you," he said evenly. "When will you return?" "Never.

One is not born English without knowing how to converse easily about the weather.

Those are facts. Are they the truth? No, for they do not tell you of the heart, and that is where truth lives.

After a moment, he turned sharply to me. 'Are you quite all right?' 'Yes, perfectly. Why do you ask?' 'Because I have just called you contrary and you did not bother to contradict me. I thought you might be ill.

I stepped closer still. He closed his eyes again and covered my hand with his own. 'You smell of violets. You always smell of violets,' he said. 'You've no idea how many times I have walked these moors and smelled them and thought you were near. On and on I walked, following the scent of you, and you were never there. When I saw you in the hall tonight, I thought I had finally gone mad.