She wondered if, when human souls try to get too near each other, they do not inevitably become mere blurs to each other's vision.

Since the Americans have ceased to have dyspepsia, they have lost the only thing that gave them any expression.

She had no tolerance for scenes which were not of her own making.

In every heart there should be one grief that is like a well in the desert.

She threw back her head with a laugh that made her chins ripple like little waves.

I couldn't have spoken like this yesterday, because when we've been apart, and I'm looking forward to seeing you, every thought is burnt up in a great flame. But then you come; and you're so much more than I remembered, and what I want of you is so much more than an hour or two every now and then, with wastes of thirsty waiting between, that I can sit perfectly still beside you, like this, with that other vision in my mind, just quietly trusting it to come true.

She had been bored all afternoon by Percy Gryce... but she could not ignore him on the morrow, she must follow up her success, must submit to more boredom, must be ready with fresh compliances and adaptibilities, and all on the bare chance that he might ultimately decide to do her the honour of boring her for life.