I expect to be well--one way or another--" "Stephen, where are you going?
Answer me!" "I can't answer you." "Is your illness serious ?" "A--it is--it requires some--some care." Her fingers tightening around the receiver whitened to the delicate nails under the pressure.

Mute, struggling with the mounting impulse, voice and lip unsteady, she still spoke with restraint: "You say you require care?
And what care have you?
Who is there with you?
Answer me!" "Why--everybody; the servants.

I have care enough." "Oh, the servants! Have you a physician to advise you ?" "Certainly--the best in the world.

Sylvia, dea--, Sylvia, I didn't mean to give you an impression--" "Stephen, I will have you truthful with me! I know perfectly well you are ill.

I--if I could only--if there was something, some way--Listen: I am--I am going to do something about it, and I don't care very much what I do!" "What sweet nonsense!" he laughed, but his voice was no steadier than hers.
"Will you drive with me ?" she asked impulsively, "some afternoon--" "Sylvia, dear, you don't really want me to do it.