Mechanically, a ball rose in her throat; the remark was illuminated by a saying of Colney's, with regard to his countrymen at the play of courtship.

No laughter came.

The gentleman talked on.
All fancies and internal communications left her.

Slowness of motion brought her to the plain piece of work she had to do, on a colourless earth, that seemed foggy; but one could see one's way.

Resolution is a form of light, our native light in this dubious world.
Dudley Sowerby opened her carriage-door.