I know how she felt years ago, when she was a perfect spook.

I don't believe she's changed.

With all her impulsive ways she's as deep as perdition, and she'd flirt with him to spite me, if nothing more.

Papa said last night that I had better accept Arnault.

I won't accept him till I must, and he'll rue his success if he wins it." Then the mirror reflected a lovely creature dissolved in tears.
Again she soliloquized: "I can't accept a horse from Graydon; Arnault would never submit to it.