Did you imagine that you would make me believe ill of Sophy with your foolish and spiteful letter!' he demanded. 'You have tried to set me against her from the outset, but you over-reached yourself today, my girl! How dared you write in such terms to me! How could you have been so crassly stupid as to suppose that Sophy could ever need your countenance to set her right in the eyes of the world, or that I would believe one word of slander against her?
Georgette HeyerCecy, help me to collect the ducklings, and put them back into the box! If we were to place your muff on top of them they will very likely believe it to be their mother, and settle down!
Georgette HeyerNevertheless, she did not weep, because, for one thing, it would have made her eyes red, and another, it would be of very little use.
Georgette HeyerI am selfish, father? Because I will not become the thing I despise?"
"And narrow, Philips, to despise what you do not know."
"I am to be a painted popinjay! I tell you, sir, Cleone may take me as I am!"
"Or leave you as you are," said Sir Maurice gently.
I see you will have it, Mr. Jettan. I will meet you when and where you will."
Philip patted his sword-hilt.
"I have noticed, Mr. Bancroft, that you habitually don your sword. So I took the precaution of wearing mine. 'When' is now, and 'where' is yonder!" He pointed above the hedge that encircled the garden to the copse beyond. It was a very fine theatrical effect, and he was pleased with it.
He bowed, still holding her hand, and then, without a word, released it, and marched out, very dignified. It was another fine tragic effect, but Cleone, when the door closed behind him, broke into an hysterical laugh. She was rather amazed, and a little apprehensive.
Georgette HeyerWith Philip's departure had come a void which only could be filled by Philip's return.
Georgette HeyerTags: georgian-romance
Who is he, the ill-disposed gentleman in pink?" inquire the Comte, when they were out of earshot.
"A creature of no importance," shrugged Philip.
"So I see. Yet he contrives to arouse your anger.?"
"Yes," admitted Philip. "I do not like the color of his coat.
The supreme torture was to come. He discovered that it required the united energies of the three men to coax him into his coat. When at last it was on he assured them it would split across the shoulders if her so much as moved a finger.
"Forget it, little fool!"
"Forget it?" cried Philip." How can I forget it when it prevents my moving?
Alas, it is too true. I visited him this morning and found him en deshabille, clasping his brown. He seized on me and demanded a rhyme to some word which I have forgot. So I left him."
"Can no one convince Philippe that he is not a poet?" asked De Bergeret plaintively.
De Vangrisse shook his head.
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