It would be very easy.

Tell her she's too old to be happy.
But say good-bye to me first." "Sarah!" "Why is it to be all sunshine for you, and all shade for her ?" said Sarah.

"Hasn't she wept enough to please you?
Mayn't she have her St.
Martin's summer?
God gives it to her.

Will _you_ take it away ?" "Sarah!" He looked up at her crimsoned tearful face in dismay.

Was this Sarah the infantile--the pink-and-white--the seductive, laughing, impudent Sarah?
And yet how passionately Peter admired her in this mood of virago, which he had never seen since the days of her childish rages of long ago.
"Why do you suppose," said Sarah, disdainfully, "that I've been letting you follow _me_ about all this summer, and desert _her_; except to show her how little you are to be depended upon?
To bring home to her how foolish she'd be to fling away her happiness for your sake.