The mob is a sort of bear; while your ring is through its nose, it will even dance under your cudgel; but should the ring slip, and you lose your hold, the brute will turn and rend you. — Jane Porter Copy Share Image
“And you’re prickly enough about being young.” She was amusing him. “More than ever, I feel as if I’ve robbed the cradle.” But she knew how to puncture his mirth. “You are very old,” she agreed demurely. He pushed her… — Christina Dodd Copy Share Image
