At last she rose and faced him, with one hand, that trembled, resting on the back of the chair.

Her face wore a look that was almost profound, and there was an acknowledgment in it, a degree of submission, which startled him.
"So that is how you have read me," she said, looking again at the portrait "Oh, I do not find fault; I would like to, but I dare not.

I am not sure enough that you are wrong--no, I am too sure that you are right.

I am, indeed, very much preoccupied with myself.

I have always been--I shall always be.