I don't think I'm really much of a hand at sentiment," said Sarah, with great truth.
"And Peter ?" asked Lady Mary, gently.
"You wanted Peter to be a--a noble kind of person, a great statesman, or something of that sort, didn't you ?" Her soft lips caressed Lady Mary's hand apologetically.

"To be fond of reading and poetry, and all sorts of things; and _he_ wanted to shoot rabbits and go fishing.

But, of course, he couldn't help _knowing_ you wanted him to be something he wasn't, and never could be, and didn't want to be." "Oh, Sarah!" said poor Lady Mary.

"But--yes, it is true what you are saying." "It's true, though I say it so badly; and I know it, because, as I tell you, Peter and I are just the same sort at heart.

I've been teasing him, pretending to be a worldling, but foreign travel and entertaining in London are just about as unsuited to me as to Peter.
I--I'm glad"-- she uttered a quick, little sob--"that I--I played my part well while it all lasted; but you know it wasn't so much me as my looks that did it.