I Value My Own Independence So Highly

She Stood By The Tea-table In A Light-coloured Muslin Gown, Which Had A Good Deal Of Pink About It. She Looked As If She Was Not Attending To The Conversation, But Solely Busy With The Tea-cups, Among Which Her Round Ivory Hands Moved With Pretty, Noiseless, Daintiness.

I Would Not Trust A Mouse To A Woman If A Man's Judgment Could Be Had.

Margaret Had Always Dreaded Lest Her Courage Should Fail Her In Any Emergency, And She Should Be Proved To Be, What She Dreaded Lest She Was--a Coward. But Now, In This Real Great Time Of Reasonable Fear And Nearness Of Terror, She Forgot Herself, And Felt Only An Intense Sympathy--intense To Painfulness--in The Interests Of The Moment.

On Some Such Night As This She Remembered Promising To Herself To Live As Brave And Noble A Life As Any Heroine She Ever Read Or Heard Of In Romance, A Life Sans Peur Et Sans Reproche; It Had Seemed To Her Then That She Had Only To Will, And Such A Life Would Be Accomplished. And Now She Had Learnt That Not Only To Will, But Also To Pray, Was A Necessary Condition In The Truly Heroic. Trusting To Herself, She Had Fallen.

Those Who Are Happy And Successful Themselves Are Too Apt To Make Light Of The Misfortunes Of Others.