Oh, my Margaret--my Margaret! no one can tell what you are to me! Dead--cold as you lie there you are the only woman I ever loved! Oh, Margaret--Margaret!

How shall I ever tell Aunt Shaw?' she whispered, after some time of delicious silence. 'Let me speak to her.' 'Oh, no! I owe it to her, - but what will she say?' 'I can guess. Her first exclamation will be, "That man!" ' 'Hush!' said Margaret, 'or I shall try and show you your mother's indignant tones as she says, "That woman!"

But I was right. I think that must be an hereditary quality, for my father says he is scarcely ever wrong.

Margaret was not a ready lover, but where she loved she loved passionately, and with no small degree of jealousy.

But the trees were gorgeous in their autumnal leafiness - the warm odours of flowers and herb came sweet upon the sense.

If you dare to injure her in the least, I will await you where no policeman can step in between. And God shall judge between us two.

That kind of patriotism which consists in hating all other nations.