There was a thrill and a quality in it which both repelled and fascinated.

This queer waif and stray, this vagabond of the woodside, was at least as fearless as herself.
"I don't know what you mean," she said, in a less imperious tone than she had hitherto used.
"I could explain what I mean, but I won't.

I have too kind a heart to crush you.

I could crush you.

I could take that dainty white hand of yours, and feel it tremble in mine--and if you knew all that I could say you wouldn't leave me out here in the avenue, but you'd take me in, and give me the best to eat, and the softest bed to lie upon.