Well, I suppose one ought not to employ a magician and then complain that he does not behave like other people.

The governess was not much liked in the village. She was too tall, too fond of books, too grave, and, a curious thing, never smiled unless there was something to smile at.

How is a magician to exist without books? Let someone explain that to me. It is like asking a politician to achieve high office without the benefit of bribes or patronage.

It would need someone very remarkable to recover your name, Stephen, someone of rare perspicacity, with extraordinary talents and incomparable nobility of character. Me, in fact.

He smiles but rarely and watches other men to see when they laugh and then does the same.

To be more precise it was the color of heartache.

This is a very grave matter, punishable by...well, I do not exactly know what, but something rather severe, I should imagine.