I love it.

I'll live in it or I'll die in it.

I'll never leave it." This was almost the last word that passed this delightful afternoon, when the sense of her own past injustice, the thrilling nature of the story told by the very sufferer, and, above all, the presence and the undisguised emotion of another sympathizing woman, thawed Grace Carden's reserve, warmed her courage, and carried her, quite unconsciously, over certain conventional bounds, which had, hitherto, been strictly observed in her intercourse with this young workman.
Henry himself felt that this day was an era in his love.

When he left the door, he seemed to tread on air.

He walked to the first cab-stand, took a conveyance to his mother's door, and soon he was locked in her arms.
She had been fretting for hours at his delay; but she never let him know it.