She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much in my entire life, Lucy, and that’s saying something. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage.
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