Celia was not impulsive: what she had to say could wait, and came from her always with the same quiet staccato evenness.
"Poor Dodo," she went on, in an amiable staccato.
"Dodo!" said Celia, in her quiet staccato; then kissed her sister, whose arms encircled her, and said no more.
Celia, who had been hanging a little in the rear, came up presently, when she saw that Mr. Casaubon was gone away, and said in her easy staccato, which always seemed to contradict the suspicion of any malicious intent— "Do you know, Dorothea, I saw some one quite young coming up one of the walks."
Did you ever see anything like that?" said Celia, in her comfortable staccato.