Edith Wharton

“ Ann Eliza made no answer. "You think my sister's going to be sick a good while, then?" she asked.
"Well, yes—possibly."
"You think she's very sick?"
"Well, yes. She's very sick."
His face had grown still graver; he sat there as though he had never known what it was to hurry.
Ann Eliza continued to separate the pearl and horn buttons. Suddenly she lifted her eyes and looked at him. "Is she going to die?"
The doctor laid a kindly hand on hers. "We never say that, Miss Bunner. Human skill works wonders—and at the hospital Mrs. Ramy would have every chance." ”

“ Evelina retorted with a touch of her old tartness.
"Does your cough keep on hurting you jest as much?"
"I don't see's there's much difference."
"Well, I guess I'll get the doctor to come round again," Ann Eliza said, trying for the matter-of-course tone in which one might speak of sending for the plumber or the gas-fitter.
"It ain't any use sending for the doctor—and who's going to pay him?"
"I am," answered the elder sister. "Here's your tea, and a mite of toast. Don't that tempt you?" ”

“ Self-effacement for the good of others had always seemed to her both natural and necessary; but then she had taken it for granted that it implied the securing of that good. Now she perceived that to refuse the gifts of life does not ensure their transmission to those for whom they have been surrendered ”