You can come see me for a visit anytime. It's like how the song goes: I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places. . .

Would you like me to go take that violin for you? I'd gladly fight whatever angry mob rises up if it might make you smile.

I would only want to play for you.

She couldn't help it - she flinched. One of them had clearly misunderstood whatever was between them. Apparently, it had been her. Etta charged away from him down the sidewalk. He caught up to her in three long strides and took her arm in his hand, forcing her to stop. She couldn't bring herself to look up; she only waited for Nicholas to speak.

I don't care about the rules or anyone else. People are awful - they're idiots - and if they try to hurt you, I won't need the revolver. I care about you and all I ask is that you try not to make me feel like an idiot for it. You're supposed to . . . you're my partner.

Don't you dare call me Miss Spencer, it kills me when you act like we aren't friends.

I forget myself with you. I forget the rules. I forget every other living soul in this would. Do you understand?

Tell me . . . just one thing . . . about your time?' he managed to get out.'Of course,' Etta said.'Do you remember . . . that couple in London, in the station?''The ones who were dancing?' she asked. 'What about them?''Would we . . . be able to dance . . . that way?' he said, finding it harder to catch his breath. 'In your time?'Etta pressed her lips together, clearly fighting to offer him a smile. 'Yes.' 'Though so.

It's our choices that matter in the end. Not wishes, not words, not promises.