If heretofore they had spoken in riddles, they spoke plainly now.

Every other feeling in the world seemed to have been swept away by a passion, the overwhelming strength of which she regarded panic-stricken.

She seemed to have been asleep all her life, to have stirred restlessly once or twice of late, and now to have waked to consciousness and agony.

Love, with women like Ruth, is a great happiness or a great calamity.

It is with them indeed for better, for worse.
Those whose feelings lie below the surface escape the hundred rubs and scratches which superficial natures are heir to; but it is the nerve which is not easily reached which when touched gives forth the sharpest pang.