O God, I love you to the edge of madness, Venetia, but I’m not mad yet – not so mad that I don’t know how disastrous it might be to you – to us both! You don’t realize what an advantage I should be taking of your innocence!
What I mean is, like you to have everything you want. Wished it was me, that’s all.
Depend upon it, you are just the sort of girl a man would be glad to have for his sister! You don’t even know how to swoon, and I daresay if you tried you would make wretched work of it, for all you have is common sense, and of what use is that, pray?
The Marquis believed himself to be hardened against flattery. He thought that he had experienced every variety, but he discovered that he was mistaken: the blatantly worshipful look in the eyes of a twelve-year-old, anxiously raised to his, was new to him, and it pierced his defences.
Has no one ever told you that it is the height of impropriety to kiss any gentleman, unless you have the intention of accompanying him immediately to the altar?
You are an atrocious person! Since the day I met you I have become steadily more depraved.
Let me tell you, my girl, that I’m swallowing no more of your insults! And if I hear another word from you in disparagement of the Corinthian set it will be very much the worse for you!
God knows I’m no saint, but I don’t think I’m more of a sinner than any other man.
Well, you have the right to make a sacrifice of yourself, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you sacrifice me!
Do you know, I think that of all your idiosyncrasies that choke you give, when you are determined not to laugh, is the one that most enchants me.
She decided that her wisest course would be to put him out of her mind. After reaching this conclusion she lay thinking about him until at last she fell asleep.
She bowed her head, clasping her hands tightly before her upon the arm of his chair, for her heart yearned towards him, yet could not reach him, and it made her throat ache with unhappiness to meet that look of his that rested on her face without seeing it.
Judging from the letters I’ve received from obviously feeble-minded persons who wish I would write another These Old Shades, it ought to sell like hot cakes.
Eccentricity may be diverting, Mama, but it is out of place in a wife: certainly in my wife!
I liked that young man, did not you? There was something particularly pleasing about his manners, which I thought very easy and frank. He has an air of honest manliness, too, which, in these days of fribbles and counter-coxcombs, I own I find refreshing!
Those fine eyes of hers had a disconcertingly direct gaze, and very often twinkled in a manner disturbing to male egotism. She had common-sense too, and what man wanted the plainly matter-of-fact, when he could enjoy instead Sophia’s delicious folly?
The society of my relatives can only be enjoyed with frequent intervals.
Will you marry me, vile and abominable girl that you are? Yes, but, mind, it only to save my neck from being wrung!
You will allow that one’s curiosity must be aroused when one learns that a lady is prepared to elope to escape from advances one had not the least intention of making!
The charm of your society, My Sparrow, lies in not knowing what will you say next – though one rapidly learns to fear the worst!