But you are sure you are all right, Chris, and haven't got a headache or anything ?" And the anxious expression returned to Elisabeth's face.
"My head is very well, thank you." "You don't feel any pain ?" "In my head?
distinctly not." "You are quite well, you are certain ?" "Perfectly certain and quite well.

What a fidget you are! Apparently you attach as much importance to rosy cheeks as Mother Hankey does." "A pale face and dark hair are in her eyes the infallible signs of a depraved nature," laughed Elisabeth; "and I have both." "Yet you fly at me for having one, and that only for a short time.
Considering your own shortcomings, you should be more charitable." Elisabeth laughed again as she patted his arm in a sisterly fashion.
"Nice old boy! I am awfully glad you are all right.

It would make me miserable if anything went really wrong with you, Chris." "Then nothing shall go really wrong with me, and you shall not be miserable," said Christopher stoutly; "and, therefore, it is fortunate that I don't possess much heart--things generally go wrong with the people who have hearts, you know, and not with the people who have not; so we perceive how wise was the poet in remarking that whatever is is made after the best possible pattern, or words to that effect." With which consoling remark he took leave of his liege-lady.
The friendship between Alan Tremaine and Elisabeth Farringdon grew apace during the next twelve months.

His mind was of the metaphysical and speculative order, which is interesting to all women; and hers was of the volatile and vivacious type which is attractive to some men.

They discussed everything under the sun, and some things over it; they read the same books and compared notes afterward; they went out sketching together, and instructed each other in the ways of art; and they carefully examined the foundations of each other's beliefs, and endeavoured respectively to strengthen and undermine the same.