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Archie was again overcome by his affection for his friends, for the unconditional, if unspoken, loyalty that bound them together.
She was profoundly uninterested in catching a man, and she was beginning to think that life was too short not to simply read what one wanted to read.
“Not that kind of family. Why must family be defined by blood relations? That’s what I’m trying to say. Why can’t we make our own families by surrounding ourselves with like-minded people? With people who appreciate us?”
“Unknowingly, perhaps. But we’re a sort of found family, are we not?”
The fact that she was constitutionally ill-suited for spending a great deal of time in company didn’t mean she didn’t know how to do it. Theoretically.
“I am not accustomed to men listening to me when I say what I want, much less allowing me to have it.”
“I wish more people were like you. You listen. And not just now, but always. You listen, and you try to make things better. That’s rare.”
“Your eyes are the color of the moss that grows on that big beech tree we used to climb, the road to Hill House just after it’s rained, and the straw in the fields outside Mollybrook after it’s been bailed.” Yes, that was exactly right. “Your eyes are the color of home.”
Gentlemen would come and go. Sisters were forever.
Lord help the mister who came between her and her sister.
“I daresay things are about to take a turn for the dramatic here, and I shouldn’t want to miss that.”
“I don’t want to tame you. I want to love you.”
