“This was different. He didn't want a woman. He wanted her. And he supposed that if he had to spend the afternoon being strange, sad, and disfigured just to be in her company, it would be well worth it. Then he remembered the wart. He turned to Miss Wynter and said firmly, "I am not getting a wart."Really, a man had to draw the line somewhere.”

“This was different. He didn't want a woman. He wanted her. And he supposed that if he had to spend the afternoon being strange, sad, and disfigured just to be in her company, it would be well worth it. Then he remembered the wart. He turned to Miss Wynter and said firmly, "I am not getting a wart."Really, a man had to draw the line somewhere.”

“It was heaven. Forget angels, forget St. Peter and glittering harpsichords. Heaven was a dance in the arms of one's true love.”

“He smiled, and suddenly she knew that his words were true. Everything would be all right. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Tragedy couldn't coexist in a world with one of Colin's smiles.”

“Oh, God, Francesca,Now there’s a good one.Why?Why? Why?” He gave each one a different tenor, as if he were testing out the word, asking it todifferent people.“Why?” he asked again, this time with increased volumeas he turned around to face her.“Why? It’sbecause I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when youwere with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but Ilove you, anyway.”Francesca sagged against the door.“How’s that for a witty little joke?” he mocked. “I loveyou. I loveyou, my cousin’s wife. I loveyou, theone woman I can never have. I loveyou, Francesca Bridger-ton Stirling.”

“And if you say that's because you lot barged into her home like a herd of mentally deficient sheep, I'm disowning all three of you.”

“Michael nodded tersely, eyeing a table across the room. It was empty. So empty. So joyfully, blessedly empty.He could picture himself a very happy man at that table."Not feeling very conversational this evening, are we?" Colin asked, breaking into his (admittedly tame) fantasies.”

“My mother is convinced that yellow is a happy color and that a happy girl would get a husband.-Penelope Featherington”

“Caroline stamped her foot in frustration, but when it landed, it landed on something considerablyless flat than the floor."Owww!" he yelled.Oh! His foot!Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry , she mouthed.I didn't mean it."If you think I can understand that," he growled, "you're crazier than I'd originally thought.”

“He smacked the heel of his hand against his forhead, as if that could knock the mental picture out of his head. Hell, he though irritably, he didn't want to knock the image just out of his head. He wanted to send it clear across the room and out the window.”

“This has to be the most self-centered thing I've ever said, but no, I think you just wanted to vex me.”

“Blake took a small roll from the tray on the table, then put it back in favor of a larger one. And maybe a little butter. It certainly couldn't hurt. And jam...no, he drew the line at jam. She was a spy, after all.”