"No doubt the wolf's nature will be greatly benefited--his teeth will be dulled for his prey, his voice softened for the nightcry--if he should ever, by chance, discover that the Christmas angel is there." "I don't think he'll be long in making the discovery." The blue of Evadna's eyes darkened and darkened until they were almost black.
"Christmas angel,--well, I like that! Much you know about angels." Grant turned his head indolently and regarded her.
"If it isn't a Christmas angel--they're always very blue and very golden, and pinky-whitey--if it isn't a Christmas angel, for the Lord's sake what is it ?" He gave his head a slight shake, as if the problem was beyond his solving, and flicked the ashes from his cigarette.
"Oh, I could pinch you!" She gritted her teeth to prove she meant what she said.
"It says it could pinch me." Grant lazily addressed the trout.

"I wonder why it didn't, then, when it was being squashed ?" "I just wish to goodness I had! Only I suppose Aunt Phoebe--" "I do believe it's got a temper.

I wonder, now, if it could be a LIVE angel ?" Grant spoke to the softly swaying poplars.
"Oh, you--there now!" She made a swift little rush at him, nipped his biceps between a very small thumb and two fingers, and stood back, breathing quickly and regarding him in a shamed defiance.

"I'll show you whether I'm alive!" she panted vindictively.
"It's alive, and it's a humming-bird.

Angels don't pinch." Grant laid a finger upon his arm and drawled his solution of a trivial mystery.
"It mistook me for a honeysuckle, and gave me a peck to make sure." He smiled indulgently, and exhaled a long wreath of smoke from his nostrils.