Its sagacity is wonderful.

But no one knows the resources of that man's intellect, except myself!' She stopped for a moment to take my hand between hers, and went on: 'It's in vain, Trot, to recall the past, unless it works some influence upon the present.

Perhaps I might have been better friends with your poor father.

Perhaps I might have been better friends with that poor child your mother, even after your sister Betsey Trotwood disappointed me.

When you came to me, a little runaway boy, all dusty and way-worn, perhaps I thought so.