"I've nothing against cities in general, but I breathed some pretty foul air in Quebec, and it's sweet and clean here.

There comes a time when you are glad no house crosses your view and you are with the world as it was made in the beginning.

Don't these trees look splendid! Did you ever see a finer lot of tender young leaves?
And the night sky you see up there has been washed and scrubbed until it's nothing but clean blue!" "Why, you're only a boy, Dave, the youngest of us three," laughed Robert.

"Here you are singing songs about leaves and trees just as if you were not the most terrible swordsman in the world." A shadow crossed Willet's face, but it was quick in passing.
"Let's not talk about Boucher, Robert," he said.

"I don't regret what I did, knowing that it saved the lives of others, but I won't recall it any oftener than I can help.