Twain's End - Pg 184

   Isabel plucked at the coral necklace that he had given her, thinking of all the times she had been patted, kissed, or had her hand grasped by both men and women so they might touch someone close to the great man. One woman, after kissing her on the forehead, had asked how she ever managed to come to work for such a saintly man, as if Isabel somehow maneuvered her way into his confidence. Isabel had "managed" nothing. The most wonderful things in life came of their own accord; you just had to be open to them.