You think I’ve got brains?’ he said, awed. ‘Not confusing me with Charlie?’‘Charlie?’ uttered Miss Charing contemptuously. ‘I daresay he has book-learning, but you have—you have address, Freddy!’‘Well...
You may have married her, but she is mine. Do you think I shall let you take her? She may be ten times your wife, but, by God, you shall never have her.
Will you go with me to Wells, ma’am, or will you not?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said Abby meekly. ‘If you are quite sure you wouldn’t prefer Miss Butterbank’s company to mine!’ The carriage had drawn up in front o...
Why, her father would turn in his grave--well, as a matter of fact, he was cremated, but what I mean is, if he hadn't been he would have. [Ermyntrude]
Whatever should I do if Mama were to arrive while you are gone?’ ‘Hide in the hay-loft!’ he recommended. ‘But if she has a particle of commonsense she won’t make the smallest push to recover you!
What, sir, would you think of a member of the Weaker Sex who assumed the guise of a man, and left the home of her natural protector by way of the window?I should assume, replied Sir Richard, that she...
What a leg. What an air. A most engaging smile.
Well, if you sat eating as though nothing mattered save your dinner I’m not surprised, said Julianaviciously. If I were not so angry with her, the deceitful, sly wretch, I could pity her for all she m...
Well, I think I laid down my sunshade first,'said Mrs. Twining reflectively. 'Ah, that doesn't interest you. I told Finch that I wanted to tidy my hair (a euphemism for powder my nose, of course), and...
Venetia was then twenty-two, perilously near to being on the shelf.'Without ever having been *off* it, Sir John - though that's not precisely what I mean, only that its is a wicked shame, so beautiful...
This is my cousin, by the way. I dare say you know of him. He is very wicked and kills people in duels. Vidal, this is Frederick.
The thought of his high and imposing father’s regal progress to Harrowgate, and his very brief stay there, made Desford begin to chuckle again. He must remember, he told himself, to ask Poor Dear Papa...
The Viscount stepped into the room. Came to see if you was dead, he said. Laid Pom odds you weren't.Lethbridge passed his hand across his eyes. I'm not, he replied in a faint voice.No. I'm sorry, said...
Ten or twelve couples? No, no, Dassett would not be talking of red carpets and awnings for such a paltry affair as that!’ said his lordship. These ominous words struck a chill into his wife’s soul.
Surely, cousin, you cannot mean to *jilt* her?' said Anthea, in accents of reprobation.'Nay, it wouldn't be seemly,' he agreed. 'I'll just have to dispose of her, as you might say.''Good God! *Murder*...
Sir Tristram was contemplating with grim misgiving the prospect of encountering vivacity at the breakfast-table for the rest of his life...
She walked home', explained Sir Roland. 'We were walking home, weren't we? Very well, then. She walked home. Passed Lethbridge's house. Went in. Hit him on the head with the poker. Came out. Met us in...
She said despairingly: ‘I see that I might as well address myself to a gate-post!’ ‘What very odd things you seem to talk to!’ he remarked. ‘Do you find gate-posts less responsive than eels?
She had herself been sadly disappointed, for she had thought him a man of sense, certainly not one to be succumbing to childish ailments at inopportune moments.
Queer creatures, females, mused Mr. Standen, shaking his head. Fellow's only got to be a rake to have 'em all dangling after him. Silly, really, because it stands to reason---- Well never mind that!