She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. " "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him. “I wrote it for you. And you see, I don’t turn my back, and I am looking at you and thinking about you from top to toe. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me.
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