1 Mattie Silver's not a hired girl.
2 You're a bad girl, Mattie Silver, and I always known it.
3 The early mist had vanished and the fields lay like a silver shield under the sun.
4 After another interval he added, turning toward the figure in the arm-chair: "And this is Miss Mattie Silver."
5 Unhappily Orin Silver, a man of far-reaching aims, had died too soon to prove that the end justifies the means.
6 But I haven't got the time now; I'm late as it is, he returned, holding his old silver turnip-watch to the candle.
7 All his life was lived in the sight and sound of Mattie Silver, and he could no longer conceive of its being otherwise.
8 Frome was in the habit of walking into Starkfield to fetch home his wife's cousin, Mattie Silver, on the rare evenings when some chance of amusement drew her to the village.
9 It was a fact that since Mattie Silver's coming he had taken to shaving every day; but his wife always seemed to be asleep when he left her side in the winter darkness, and he had stupidly assumed that she would not notice any change in his appearance.
10 Mattie Silver came from Stamford, and when she entered the Fromes' household to act as her cousin Zeena's aid it was thought best, as she came without pay, not to let her feel too sharp a contrast between the life she had left and the isolation of a Starkfield farm.
11 Mattie Silver was the daughter of a cousin of Zenobia Frome's, who had inflamed his clan with mingled sentiments of envy and admiration by descending from the hills to Connecticut, where he had married a Stamford girl and succeeded to her father's thriving "drug" business.
12 Mattie Silver had lived under his roof for a year, and from early morning till they met at supper he had frequent chances of seeing her; but no moments in her company were comparable to those when, her arm in his, and her light step flying to keep time with his long stride, they walked back through the night to the farm.