Everything is different now that Cousin Anne is gone away." "Not quite everything," said Christopher gently.
"Yes; everything.

Why, the very trees don't look the same as they used to look, and the view isn't a bit what it used to be when she was here.
All the ordinary things seem queer and altered, just as they do when you see them in a dream." "Poor little girl!" "And now it doesn't seem worth while for anything to look pretty.

I used to love the sunsets, but now I hate them.

What is the good of their being so beautiful and filling the sky with red and gold, if _she_ isn't here to see them?
And what is the good of trying to be good and clever if she isn't here to be pleased with me?
Oh dear! oh dear! Nothing will ever be any good any more." Christopher laid an awkward hand upon Elisabeth's dark hair, and began stroking it the wrong way.

"I say, I wish you wouldn't fret so; it's more than I can stand to see you so wretched.