"Yes, I CAN," she answered.

"It is a work of necessity; and in works of necessity a woman, I think, should flinch at nothing.

Have I not seen already every varied aspect of death at Nathaniel's ?" And in she went, undaunted, to that chamber of horrors, still clasping the baby.
The pony made short work of the remaining loaves, which she devoured with great zest.

As Hilda had predicted, they seemed to hearten her.

The food and drink, with a bucket of water dashed on her hoofs, gave her new vigour like wine.