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Quote by Mary Westmacott

“A new nursemaid came, a thin white girl with protruding eyes. Her name was Isabel, but she was called Susan as being ‘more suitable’. This puzzled Vernon very much. He asked Nurse for an explanation. ‘There are names that are suitable to the gentry, Master Vernon, and names that are suitable for servants. That’s all there is to it.”

Quote by Mary Westmacott

Book:Giant's Bread

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Mary Westmacott

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“He had heard her say to other ladies, ‘He asks me the quaintest questions. Just listen to this. Aren’t children funny and adorable?’ But Vernon couldn’t see that he was funny or adorable at all. He just wanted to know. You’d got to know. That was part of growing up.”

Mary Westmacott Page 26

Book:Giant's Bread

Source: Giant's Bread

“I looked at Perston‐Smythe. "Are you going to let them do this?" Cox did smile then. "Dr. Perston‐Smythe is a contracted employee of the agency. Who do you think notified us in the first place?" I took a step toward the desk and had the small pleasure of seeing the smile drop from Cox's face. Five witnesses. Better make it good. I smiled then. "I have just one thing to say, then. And I hope you'll report it to your superiors, of whom there must be many." Cox narrowed his eyes. "Yes?" "We mean no harm to your planet," I said. And jumped.”

Author:Steve Gould Jumper

“She brought the tea into the living room on a lacquered tray. The pot and cups were Japanese with unglazed rims. She poured. "Thanks," I said. "Well?" "Huh?" "Your family," she reminded. I sipped the tea. "This is really good. Really delicious." She raised her eyebrows. "That's what I thought. You're a good listener, Davy, and you can change the subject on a dime. You've hardly talked about yourself at all." "I talk... too much." "You talk about books, you talk about plays, you talk about movies, you talk about places, you talk about food, you talk about current events. You don't talk about yourself." I opened my mouth, then shut it again. I hadn't really thought about it. Sure, I didn't talk about the jumping, but the rest? "Well, there's not much to say. Not like those stories of growing up with four brothers." She smiled. "It's not going to work. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I'm not going to be distracted again, nor fooled into talking about those idiots again." She poured more tea into my cup. I frowned. "Do I really do that?" "What? Not talk about yourself? Yes." "No, try and distract you." She stared at me. "You are fucking amazing. I've never seen someone so good at changing the subject." "I don't do it on purpose." She laughed.”

Author:Steven Gould

“I'd thought about this for a long time. "That bank loses that much money in bad loans every month. They make that much money in interest every day. They're a big bank. The money I took was small change to them. No depositor was hurt." She shook her head. "I still can't approve of it. I don't think it's right." I felt my face go remote, still. I crossed my arms and felt cold. She spread her hands. "It doesn't change the fact that I still love you. I've missed you terribly. I've missed your phone calls, and I've missed your body in bed next to me. I don't know what to do about this. My loving you goes way beyond my disapproval of your theft." I uncrossed my arms and reached across the table for her. She leaned forward and we kissed until the candle burned a hole in my shirt. Then we laughed and I held an ice cube to the burn and the food came and everything was all right.”

Author:Steven Gould

“The first thing I want to make clear is that this violence, this terrorism, is not cultural. It isn't integral either to Arab or Muslim culture. I've done too many briefings for senators and congressmen who think that all 'towelheads' carry a pistol and a grenade. If you can't see beyond this stereotype, then we might as well stop now.”

Author:Steven Gould

“Matar slowly approached the coffee and picked it up carefully, like it might bite him. He removed the lid and sniffed. "It's not poisoned," I said. "What are you? You conjure things from nowhere." "Perhaps I'm an afrit, a genie. Perhaps I'm an angel." Cox watched this exchange with interest. "Perhaps you are Shaitan," said Matar. I raised my eyebrows and Cox obligingly said, "Satan." I smiled a smile that didn't touch my eyes. The blood drained from Matar's face. "Perhaps," I said. "Welcome to hell.”

Author:Steven Gould

“Are you ready to release Millie Harrison?" "We don't negotiate with terrorists." "I'm not a terrorist." I said it tiredly. "Besides, that's bullshit. The U.S. has always negotiated with terrorists, no matter what it's said. Why do you think we sold arms to Iran?" "Release Brian Cox. We'll think about it." "Millie Harrison is being illegally held. Brian Cox kidnapped her. Who is the terrorist? Who is attacking the innocent? Release her and I'll give you back Cox." I hung up.”

Author:Steven Gould

“It is our policy not to negotiate with terrorists." I stared at the phone, my eyes wide. I was speechless and very, very angry. "Are you still there?" The voice belonged to an unnamed official in the NSA. Perston‐Smythe introduced him as one of Cox's supervisors. "What the fuck do you mean by that?" "It is the policy of this government not to negotiate with terrorists." "Do you mean to tell me that you consider me a terrorist?" He sounded almost prim. "Certainly. You've taken a hostage." "Terrorists," I said, gritting my teeth, "attack the innocent to achieve their goals. If you're about to tell me that you consider Cox an innocent bystander, then this conversation is over." "Terrorists are—" "Oh, fuck it! You want a terrorist action so you can consider me a terrorist? There's no way you can keep me out of your nuclear arsenals. Where do you want the first one to go off? The Pentagon? The White House? The Capitol building? How about Moscow or Kiev? Wouldn't that be interesting? Do you think they'd launch?" His voice was a lot less prim. "You wouldn't do that." "Well, as a matter of fact, I wouldn't. BECAUSE I'M NOT A TERRORIST!" I slammed the phone down on the hook and jumped.”

Author:Steven Gould

“I told her about my revenge on Topper the attempted rapist and the guy at the transient's hotel in Brooklyn, and, finally, I told her about stealing the money. "You did what?" She sat straight up in her chair, her eyes wide, her mouth open. "Shhh." Other diners were staring at us, frozen in silent tableau, some with forks or spoons halfway to mouth. Millie was blinking her eyes rapidly. Much quieter, she said, "You robbed a bank?" "Shhh." My ears were burning. "Don't make a scene." "Don't shush me! I didn't rob a bank." Fortunately she whispered it. The waiter walked up then and took our drink order. Millie ordered a vodka martini. I asked for a glass of white wine. I didn't know if it would help, but I figured it couldn't hurt. "A million dollars?" she said, after the waiter left. "Well, almost." "How much of it is left?" "Why?" She blushed. "Curiosity. I must look like a proper little gold digger." "About eight hundred thousand." "Dollars!" The man at the next table spilled his water. "Christ, Millie. You want me to leave you here? You're fifteen hundred miles away from home you know.”

Author:Steven Gould