And it's midnight, if a minute." Pressing herself tightly into her corner, Kitty managed to gasp: "My name is not Enid, sir.

You have mistaken your carriage." "What?
Good heavens!" Almost instantly a match sparkled and flared.
His eyes, screened behind his hand, palm outward (a perfectly natural action, yet nicely calculated), beheld a pretty, charming face, large Irish blue eyes (a bit startled at this moment), and a head of hair as shiny-black as polished Chinese blackwood.

The match, still burning, curved like a falling star through the window.

"A thousand pardons, madam! Very stupid of me.

Quite evident that I am lost.