Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. “Difficulties indeed. Wherein she differed but little from her young sisters. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. "Ay, what's the matter, boy!" reiterated Jackson sternly.
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