A man ought to look up to a woman, literally or figuratively, because that is the proper mode of worship, and worship is the very least he can do.
Loretta ChaseBertie’s gaze fell there and his blue eyes widened. “Deuce take you, Jess,” he said crossly. “Can’t a fellow trust you for a moment? How many times do I have to tell you to leave my friends alone?”
Miss Trent coolly withdrew her hand.
Trent gave Dain an apologetic look. “Don’t pay it any mind, Dain. She does that to all the chaps. I don’t know why she does it, when she don’t want ‘em. Just like them fool cats of Aunt Louisa’s. Go to all the bother of catching a mouse, and then the confounded things won’t eat ’em. Just leave the corpses lying about for someone else to pick up.”
Miss Trent’s lips quivered.
Mots clés reputation seduction turning-tables
Beaumont wanted Esmond very badly. Esmond wanted Beaumont’s wife. And she didn’t want anybody.
Loretta ChaseMots clés romantic-comedy relationship-humor
And, while Jessica had faith enough in Providence, she preferred to seek help from more accessible sources. Her assistant was Phelps, the coachman.
Loretta ChaseMots clés faith providence practicality
Just like a damned man, he thought exasperatedly. She got what she wanted, then curled up and went to sleep.
That was what he was supposed to do, blast and confound her bloody impudence.
Mrs. Wingare regarded him through slitted blue eyes. "Have you any idea, Rathbourne, how utterly detestable you become when you adopt that tone of patient superiority?"
"The trouble is, you are tired, hungry, anxious, and afflicted with an aching hand," he said. "The trouble is, you had confidently expected a happy outcome only to have your hopes dashed. Consequently, you are too low-spirited at present to appreciate that I am perfect and therefore cannot be detestable."
She gazed at him for a moment, up and down, then up again. Then, "Did your wife ever throw things at you?" she said.
That man," she said in low but still audible tones, "is an idiot."
"Yes, madam, but he's all we've got."
"I may be stupid," Rupert said, "but I'm irresistibly attractive."
"Good grief, conceited too," she muttered.
"And being a great, dumb ox," he went on, "I'm wonderfully easy to manage."
She paused and turned to Beechey. "Are you sure there's no one else?
Shall we proceed, and ought I do so with my knife drawn?”
“You’d better keep it where it is for the moment,” he said. “Otherwise you might stab me to death accidentally.” .
“If I stab you to death,” she said, “it will not be accidental.
Mots clés humour
Let me tell you about this leg, Miss Oldridge," he said. "This used to be a modest, well-behaved leg, quietly going about its business, troubling nobody. But ever since it was hurt, it has become tyrannical."
Her expression eased another degree, and amusement glinted in her eyes, like faint, distant stars in a midsummer night's sky.
Encouraged, he went on, "This limb is selfish, surly, and ungrateful. When English medical expertise declared the case hopeless, we took the leg to a Turkish healer. He plied it with exotic unguents and cleaned and dressed it several times a day. By this means he staved off the fatal and malodorous infection it should have suffered otherwise. Was the leg grateful? Did it go back to work like a proper leg? No, it did not."
Lips twitching, she made a sympathetic murmur.
"This limb, madam," he said, "demanded months of boring exercises before it would condescend to perform the simplest movements. Even now, after nearly three years of devoted care and maintenance, it will fly into a fit over damp weather. And this, may I remind you, is an English leg, not one of your delicate foreign varieties.
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Venice she is like the beautiful cortigiana—the courtesan—who has”—Zeggio frowned, searching for the phrase he wanted—“dropped on the hours of trouble.”
“Fallen on hard times,” James said.
“Fallen on hard times,” Zeggio repeated. He murmured the phrase to himself a few times. “I see. The same but not the same.
Mots clés humor
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