'Well, that beats me!' This was Mrs.Crawford's favorite expression, which Jerry had caught, as she did most of the peculiarities in speech and manner of those about her.
'Two hundred dollars! He must be crazy.' 'Of course he is.

He don't know what he does or says half the time, and especially since you have been sick,' Harold said.
'Sick!' Jerry repeated, quickly.

'Have I been sick, and is that why I am in bed so late?
I thought you had come in to wake me up, and I was glad, for I have had horrid dreams.' Harold told her she had been in bed since the day of the investigation, when she came from the park house with a dreadful headache.
'And you've been crazy, too, as a loon,' he continued, 'and talked the queerest things about state prison, and hard boards, and bread and water, and accessories, and substitutes, and so on.

Seemed as if you thought you were a felon, and a body would have supposed that you had either taken the diamonds yourself or else knew who did, the way you went on by spells.' 'Oh, Harold!' Jerry gasped, while her face grew spotted and the perspiration came out upon her forehead.

'Did I speak anybody's name ?' 'No,' Harold replied.