Her eyes were like brown beads, and her nose very long, which gave her indeed a hawk-like appearance, somewhat unusual in a woman; but her gravity was rather that of the owl.
"You talked a great deal to Mr.Langholm," said she, sounding her rebuke rather cleverly in the key of mere statement of fact.

"Have you read his books, Mrs.Steel ?" "Some of them," said Rachel; "haven't you ?" "Oh, no, I never read novels, unless it be George Eliot, or in these days Mrs.Humphrey Ward.

It's such waste of time when there are Browning, Ruskin, and Carlyle to read and read again.

I know I shouldn't like Mr.Langholm's; I am sure they are dreadfully uncultured and sensational." "But I like sensation," Rachel said.

"I like to be taken out of myself." "So you suggested he should write a novel about Mrs.Minchin!" "No, I didn't suggest it," said Rachel, hurriedly; but the beady brown eyes were upon her, and she felt herself reddening horribly as she spoke.
"You seemed to know all about her," said the aquiline lady.