Anne Brontë

“ A momentary blush suffused her face - perhaps, a blush of sympathetic shame for such an awkward style of presentation: she gravely examined the volume on both sides; then silently turned over the leaves, knitting her brows the while, in serious cogitation; then closed the book, and turning from it to me, quietly asked the price of it - I felt the hot blood rush to my face.
'I'm sorry to offend you, Mr. Markham,' said she, 'but unless I pay for the book, I cannot take it.' And she laid it on the table.
'Why cannot you?'
'Because,' - she paused, and looked at the carpet. ”

“ So we talked about painting, poetry, and music, theology, geology, and philosophy: once or twice I lent her a book, and once she lent me one in return: I met her in her walks as often as I could; I came to her house as often as I dared. My first pretext for invading the sanctum was to bring Arthur a little waddling puppy of which Sancho was the father, and which delighted the child beyond expression, and, consequently, could not fail to please his mamma. ”

“ I'm come to help you now:- and woe be to that man, or woman either, that pauses for a moment amongst you - whether to stare about him, to scratch his head, or blow his nose - no pretext will serve - nothing but work, work, work in the sweat of your face,' &c., &c. ”