The Nonesuch

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.

You are an atrocious person! Since the day I met you I have become steadily more depraved.

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.

Miss Trent regarded her thoughtfully. "Well, it's an odd circumstance, but I've frequently observed that whenever you boast of your beauty you seem to lose some of it. I expect it must be the change in your expression." Startled, Tiffany flew to gaze anxiously into the ornate looking-glass which hung above the fireplace. "Do I?" she asked naively. "Really do I, Ancilla?" "Yes, decidedly," replied Miss Trent, perjuring her soul without the least hesitation.

I wish you did return my regard," he said. "More than I have ever wished anything in my life! Perhaps you may yet learn to do so: I should warn you that I don't easily despair!

God knows I'm no saint, but I don't think I'm more of a sinner than any other man.

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!

The Reverend William Trent, whose mind was of a serious order, had several times warned his elder sister that too lively a sense of humour frequently led to laxity of principle. She now perceived how right he was; and wondered, in dismay, whether it was because he invariably made her laugh that instead of regarding the Nonesuch with revulsion she was obliged to struggle against the impulse to cast every scruple to the winds, and to give her life into his keeping.

As for the fan, she agreed that it was a most amusing trifle: just what she would wish to buy for herself, if it had not been so excessively ugly!

I said, Quiet!" Tiffany was so much startled by this peremptory reminder that she gasped, and stood staring up at the Nonesuch as though she could not believe that he was speaking not to his cousin, but actually to her. She drew in her breath audibly, and clenched her hands. Miss Trent cast a look of entreaty at sir Waldo, but he ignored it. He strolled up to the infuriated beauty, and pushed up her chin. "Now, you may listen to me, my child!" he said sternly. "You are becoming a dead bore, and I don't tolerate bores. Neither do I tolerate noisy tantrums. Unless you want to be soundly smacked, enact me no ill-bred scenes!" There was a moment's astonished silence. Laurence broke it, seizing his cousin's hand, and fervently shaking it. "I knew you was a right one!" he declared. "A great gun, Waldo! Damme, a Trojan!

I'm really not quite as frippery a fellow as you seem to think! I own that in my grasstime I committed a great many follies and extravagances, but, believe me, I've long since out-grown them! I don't think they were any worse than what nine out of ten youngsters commit, but unfortunately I achieved, through certain circumstances, a notoriety which most young men escape. I was born with a natural aptitude for the sporting pursuits you regard with so much distrust, and I inherited, at far too early an age, a fortune which not only enabled me to indulge my tastes in the most expensive manner imaginable, but which made me an object of such interest that everything I did was noted, and talked of. That's heady stuff for greenhorns, you know! There was a time when I gave the gossips plenty to talk about. But do give me credit for having seen the error of my ways!

For himself, Sir Waldo was resigned to an evening’s boredom, denied even the amusement of pursuing his acquaintance with the lady who disapproved of him.

It was this impulsive utterance which made Mrs Chartley say, later: ‘My dear John, I marvel at your countenancing this most improper dance! When they went down the room together, with his left hand holding her right one above their heads, his right hand was clasping her waist!

He made his way towards her, reaching her as the musicians were about to strike up. A smile, and a brief how-do-you-do Mrs. Underhill, and he was bowing to Miss Trent, and saying: 'May I have the honour, ma'am?' He had told her that he should ask her for the first waltz, but she had expected him rather to invite her to dance with him later in the evening. She hesitated, feeling that she ought not to be the first lady to stand up with him. 'Thank you, but -- Miss Colebatch? Should you not --' 'No, certainly not!' he replied, 'That's Lindeth's privilege.' 'Oh! Yes, of course. But there are many other ladies who have a claim to--' 'No,' he interrupted. He smiled down at her, holding out his hand. 'With you or no one! Come!

The Rector, coming into the room and learning what was the subject under discussion, said that since the world began each generation had condemned the manners and customs of the next.

Your eyes, ma'am -- as well you know!! -- cried Help me! What could I do but respond to the appeal?' 'Next you will say that it went much against the pluck with you!' said Miss Trent, justly incensed. 'No service I could render you, ma'am, would go against the pluck!' Her colour mounted, but she said: 'I should have guessed you would have a glib answer ready!' 'You might also have guessed that I meant it.

True it is, miss, though I blush to say it! With his own eyes did Totton see him!’‘He could hardly have seen him with anyone else’s eyes!’ snapped Miss Trent, her temper fraying.

Tiffany never consciously deviated from the truth, but since she saw everything only as it affected herself the truth was apt to become somewhat distorted.

She could scarcely help admiring his appearance, but she had not fallen in love with his face, or his figure, and certainly not with his air of elegance. He had considerable charm of manner, but she decided that it was not that either. She thought it might be the humour that lurked in his eyes, or perhaps his smile.

Tiffany?’ exclaimed Mrs Underhill incredulously. ‘Why, she’s got no more notion of propriety than the kitchen cat!

He’s bookish,’ explained Sir Ralph, torn between pride in his son’s scholastic attainments and the horrid fear that he had fathered a miscreature. ‘Worst seat in the county! But there! No accounting for tastes, eh? Take my daughter, Lizzie! Never opened a book in her life, but rides with a light hand and an easy bit, and handles the reins in form.

She laughed. ‘I hope he will enjoy good sport– though my small experience informs me that catching fish is not necessary for your true angler’s enjoyment.’ ‘Oh, no! But to lose a fish is quite another matter!’ ‘Certainly! One cannot wonder that it should cast even the most cheerful person into gloom, for it is always such an enormous one that escapes!’ ‘I begin to think you are yourself an angler, ma’am: you are so exactly right!

He was not so much cynical as armoured; and at the age of five- and- thirty believed that he was past the age of falling in love. What he saw in Miss Trent he liked: the fine eyes which looked so directly into his, the graceful carriage, the indefinably well- bred air which distinguished her, and the absence of any affectation in her manners. He liked her voice, too, and the civil indifference with which she had received his compliment. It was refreshing to meet a marriageable female who did not instantly exert herself to win his admiration; it might be pleasant to pursue her acquaintance; but if he were never to see her again it would not cost him any pang of regret.

She stared up at him incredulously. ‘But – but don’t you think I’m beautiful?’ ‘Very!’ ‘Well, I know I am,’ she said candidly. ‘Ancilla thinks I shouldn’t say so – and I meant not to, on account of losing some of my beauty when I do. At least, that’s what Ancilla said, but I don’t see how it could be so, do you?’ ‘No, indeed; quite absurd! You do very right to mention the matter.’ She thought this over, darkly suspicious, and finally demanded: ‘Why?’ ‘People are so unobservant!’ he answered in dulcet accents. She broke into a trill of delicious laughter. ‘Oh, abominable! You are the horridest creature! I’ll have no more to do with you!

I am quite beneath your touch, sir!’ ‘No, no, that’s coming it much too strong!’ he said. ‘When I have it on excellent authority that your uncle is a General!’ For a moment she suspected him of mockery; then she met his eyes, and realized that the laughter in them was at a joke he believed she would appreciate. She said, with a quivering lip: ‘D-did Mrs Underhill say that? Oh, dear! I shouldn’t think you could possibly believe that she didn’t learn about my uncle from me, but I promise you she didn’t!’ ‘Another of my misapprehensions! I had naturally supposed that you introduced him into every conversation, and had been wondering how it came about that you forgot to mention him when we first met.

I didn’t make my face, so why shouldn’t I say it’s beautiful? Everyone else does!

The thought flashed into her mind that she beheld the embodiment of her ideal. It was as instantly banished;

She had felt the exquisite happiness of knowing herself to be sought after by the man of her choice; and when he had asked her to waltz with him a second time she had not hesitated.

They say -- everyone says I'm beautiful!' He managed to preserve his countenance, but his lips twitched slightly. 'Yes, of course,' he replied. 'It's well known that all heiresses are beautiful!

But not even Mrs Underhill’s evident admiration reconciled him to the prospect of dining in her house. He described her as a vulgar mushroom, and wondered that his cousins should not have kept her at a proper distance.