Your eyes are brighter." "That," said Miss Quincey, with simple pride "is the arsenic.

Dr.Cautley is giving me arsenic." Now arsenic (like happiness) has some curious properties.

It looks most innocently like sugar, which it is not.

A little of it goes a long way and undoubtedly acts as a tonic; a little more may undermine the stoutest constitution, and a little too much of it is a deadly poison and kills you.

As yet Miss Quincey had only taken it in microscopic doses.
Something had changed her; it may have been happiness, it may have been illusion; whatever it was Miss Quincey thought it was the arsenic--if it was not the weather, the very remarkable weather.