Confucius and Christ are about the same to him, and he thinks Juggernaut only 'a clumsier spelling of a name which no man spells correctly.'" "His mind is like a fine mosaic, Charlotte." "Oh, indeed, Sophia, I don't think so! Mosaics have a design and fit it.
The mind of Julius is more like that quilt of a thousand pieces which grandmother patched.

There they are, the whole thousand, just bits of color, all sizes and shapes.

I would rather have a good square of white Marseilles." "I don't think you ought to speak in such a way, Charlotte.

You can't help seeing how much he admires you." There was a tone in Sophia's carefully modulated voice which made Charlotte turn, and look at her sister.

She was sitting at her embroidery-frame, and apparently counting the stitches in the rose-leaf she was copying; but Charlotte noticed that her hand trembled, and that she was counting at random.