"Isn't poor Nora permitted to cough, if she is disposed to cough?
She's in there doing the room for me.

I'm going to try sleeping in there--isn't insomnia a fearful thing?
But the fussiness of men!" They were in the library over their coffee.

Kate was peculiarly charming that night in one of the thin white gowns she wore so much, and which it seemed so fitting she should wear.

She had been her gayest.

Prescott was thinking he had never known any one who seemed to sparkle and bubble that way; and so easily and naturally, as though it came from an inner fount of perpetual action, and could more easily rise than be held down.