"And how rapidly it works!" "What works ?" she asked him angrily.
"The poison of possession.

And what a mean end it puts to things! A week ago you were all given to causes not your own; now, how long will it take you to think of us as 'poor fanatics!'-- and to be ashamed you ever knew us ?" "You mean to say that I am a mean hypocrite!" she cried.

"Do you think that because I delight in--in pretty things and old associations, I must give up all my convictions?
Shall I find no poor at Mellor--no work to do?
It is unkind--unfair.

It is the way all reform breaks down--through mutual distrust!" He looked at her with a cold smile in his dark, sunken eyes, and she turned from him indignantly.
When they bade her good-bye at the station, she begged them to write to her.
"No, no!" said Louis, the handsome younger brother.

"If ever you want us, we are there.