Once or twice she made a gesture.

It was not addressed to him, but to some conflict going on in her mind.
He sat down on the edge of a chair and fell to twirling his hat, a sign that he was not perfectly at his ease.
"I am wondering where I shall begin," she said.
Warrington turned down his coat-collar, and the action seemed to relieve him of the sense of awkwardness.
"Luxury!" she began, with a sweep of her hand which was full of majesty and despair.

"Why have I chosen you out of all the thousands?
Why should I believe that my story would interest you?
Well, little as I have seen of the world, I have learned that woman does not go to woman in cases such as mine is." And then pathetically: "I know no woman to whom I might go.

Women are like daws; their sympathy comes but to peck.

Do you know what it is to be alone in a city?
The desert is not loneliness; it is only solitude.