She seemed, with little cries and protests and quick recognitions, movements like the darts of some fine high-feathered free-pecking bird, to stand before life as before some full shop-window.

You could fairly hear, as she selected and pointed, the tap of her tortoise-shell against the glass.

"It's certain that we do need seeing about; only I'm glad it's not I who have to do it.

One does, no doubt, begin that way; then suddenly one finds that one has given it up.

It's too much, it's too difficult.