"No, I don't remember, but it sounds like me.

I was horrid." "There was always a hard streak somewhere down in you, and you don't mind my sayin' that you ain't gettin' any softer, Gabriella.

There are times now when your mouth gets a set look like your Aunt Becky Bollingbroke's.

You don't recollect her, I 'spose, but she never married." "Well, I married," Gabriella flippantly reminded her; "so it can't be that." Though the hard work of the last ten years had left its visible mark upon her, and she looked a little older, a little tired, a little worn, experience had added a rare spiritual beauty to her face, and she was far handsomer than she had been at twenty.

The rich sprinkling of silver in the heavy waves of hair over her ears framed the firm pale oval of her face with a poetic and mysterious darkness, and gave depth and softness to her brilliant eyes.