Looking at her you knew that she might be a mistaken woman, or a headstrong woman, or both, but she could never be a mean woman.

Whichever of the ten commandments she might choose to break, it would not be that which forbids us to bear false witness against our neighbour.

Anybody might read it in her eyes.

But in her sister's, he might discern her father's shifty hardness watered by woman's weaker will into something like cunning.

For the rest Elizabeth had a very fair figure, but lacked her sister's rounded loveliness, though the two were so curiously alike that at a distance you might well mistake the one for the other.