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"Oh, Bruce, the sycamore you painted is gone!" called Patricia, not turning. "Come and see!" "Time for bed, mama dear," she said clearly. "I've got your ginger tea ready for you, and I guess it's the last you'll want this year." In a lower tone she explained to the others: "Just brewed it to make her feel more at home, you know. She doesn't need it in this fiery furnace of a place." David gave an answering squeeze that brought the tears to her eyes, as he whispered in return, "That's all right, old lady. Don't you fret about me.".
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Conrad
"Yes, major," said he at length. "You shall learn my reason--at the trial." Hughes Junior chuckled, in a slightly embarrassed fashion. Standing high above them in the semi-gloom, with that faint smile still on her lips, she watched them calmly as they danced the famous Ghost Dance of the Academy about her, omitting no gruesome detail that would be calculated to affright the dismayed beholder, chanting and groaning horribly the while. "Well?".
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