The lawyer, his thin lips parted, his head thrown back so that his hair rested upon his coat collar, remained standing, one long hand upon a coat lapel.
"Ah," said Miss Holland softly, "it _is_ an adventure, Aunt Dora." St.George liked that.

It irritated him, he had once admitted, to see a woman live as if living were a matter of life and death.

He wished her to be alive to everything, but without suspiciously scrutinizing details, like a census-taker.

To appreciate did not seem to him properly to mean to assess.

Miss Holland, he would have said, seemed to live by the beats of her heart and not by the waves of her hair--but another proof, perhaps, of "if thou likest her opinions thou wilt praise her virtues." It was but a moment before the curtain was lifted, and there approached a youth, apparently in the twenties, slender and delicately formed as a woman, his dark face surmounted by a great deal of snow-white hair.