"My body, you mean," replied Epictetus calmly.

"I will cut your head off," said his master.

"Have I said that my head could not be cut off ?" A difficult person, Epictetus.
What is this miracle by which a woman, even in your arms, may withdraw herself, utterly disappear till what you hold is as inaccessible as the face of a cliff?
"Be patient with me, dear," she urged sweetly.

"I know it is hard for you.

And I begin to see--a little--how Terry was so driven to crime." "Oh, come, that's a pretty hard word for it.