Traveling steadily, for goodness knows how many hours, in a bumping coach, would wear out the patience of a saint--and you know I'm not a saint!" "No," said Mr.Walraven; "very far from it.

Nearer the other thing, I suspect." "Now, guardy," said Mollie, reproachfully, "how can you?
And after I've been lost, and you've been all distracted about me, too! Oh, how I should like to have seen the fuss and the uproar, and the dismay and distraction generally! Do tell me what you all thought." "I'll tell you nothing of the sort," said her guardian, sternly.

"Have you no feeling in that flinty heart of yours, Mollie Dane ?" "Well, now, guardy, if you'll believe me, I'm not so sure I've got a heart at all.

There's something that beats in here"-- tapping lightly on her white bodice--"but for going frantic with love or hate, or jealousy or sorrow, or any of those hysterical things that other people's hearts seem made for, I don't believe I have.

I tell you this frankly"-- glancing sideways at Sir Roger Trajenna--"in order to warn you and everybody not to be too fond of me.