Perhaps once it _had_ him--it had its way with him.

Katie thought of the last thirty days--of paths leading out from other paths.
Once one started-- Fred's father had never started.

Bishop Wayneworth was only democratic when delivering addresses on the signers of the Declaration of Independence.

The democracy of the past was sanctified; the democracy of the present, pernicious and uncouth.

Thought of her uncle put Katie on the outside, eyes dancing with the fun of the attack.
"Who are her people, Fred ?" "Oh, Western people--ranchers; best sort of people.