Madeleine Brent

Lucy, you're as transparent as a pane of glass, and there's not a speck of guile to be seen in you. Yet in a way you're a mystery to me.

Its quietness was the quietness of strength. And the eyes were those of one who had walked through many a dark valley without flinching.

I didn't mean that I'm a nonpareil now. But I'm different, yes. I've found out that I can do quite difficult things if I keep trying very hard, and at least I've discovered that if I don't keep myself occupied I'm unhappy and unpleasant.

Ah, Chantal... Now I think I know how it feels to fly on a trapeze.

Or perhaps it's the wickedness in him that she can't resist. There are such women.

Anger and worry are the enemies of clear thought.

At a time like this with damage and disorder everywhere, no tale is too absurd to be believed and even decent people seek something on which to vent their anger.

Perhaps he was a wicked man, as Robert Falcon had said, but he had the saving grace of laughter, could even laugh at his own fatal predicament, and he had been so full of life.