I told you that Mrs.
Wayne was an elderly wood-nymph; but I was wrong.

Of course the truth is that she's a very young witch." Mathilde laughed, but not whole-heartedly.

She had already identified herself so much with the Waynes that she could not take them quite in this tone of impersonality.
Farron threw down his napkin, stood up, pulled down his waistcoat.
"I must be off," he said.

He went and kissed his wife.

Both had to nerve themselves for that.
She held his arm in both her hands, feeling it solid, real, and as hard as iron.
"You'll be up-town early ?" "I've a busy day." "By four ?" "I'll telephone." She loved him for refusing to yield to her just at this moment of all moments.