I don't know where they buy them." "I think they are usually inherited," suggested Jocelyn.
"I suppose they are," he went on in the same semi-serious tone.

"And then I ought to have it always ready to clasp in my dying hand, where Joseph would find it and wipe away a furtive tear as he buried me.

It is a pity.

I am afraid I inherited nothing from my ancestors except a very practical mind." "I should have liked very much to see a photograph of Miss Chyne," said Jocelyn, who had, apparently, not been listening.
"I hope some day you will see herself, at home in England.

For you have no abiding city here." "Only a few more years now.