Some people can't move for forty.

The doctor says I sha'n't live so long as that." Gypsy looked at the low bed, the narrow room, the pallid face and shrunken body cramped there, moveless, on the pillows.

Three years! Three years to lie through summer suns and winter snows, while all the world was out at play, and happy! "Well," said Gypsy, as the most appropriate comment suggesting itself; "you _are_ rather different from Mrs.Littlejohn!" Peace smiled.

There was something rare about Peace Maythorne's smile.
"Poor Mrs.Littlejohn! You see, she isn't used to being sick, and I am; that makes the difference." "Oh, I forgot!" said Gypsy, abruptly, "mother said I was to ask if those powders she left you put you to sleep." "Nicely.

They're better than anything the doctor gave me; everything your mother does seems to be the best sort, somehow.