“What do you see?” asked Ned, his voice hushed.“I see…I see…an elephant.”“Elephant,” Lord Blakely repeated, as he transcribed herwords. “I hope that isn’t the extent of your prediction.Unless, Ned, you plan to marry into the genus Loxodonta.”Ned blinked. “Loxo-wha?”“Comprised, among others, of pachyderms.”

“Jenny: Ned, I am having difficulties forming the image of the woman you should marry in my mind. Tell me, how do you imagine your ideal woman?"Ned: Oh, She's exactly like you. Except younger.Jenny: Whatever do you mean? She's clever? Witty?Ned: No. I mean she's dependable and honest.The mysterious smile slipped from Jenny's lips for the barest instant, and she looked at him in appalled and flattered horror. If this was how Ned assessed character, he would end up married to a street thief in no time at all.”

“Ned?' he says, after a while. 'Oi, Ned?''What?''If someone says to you that the guy they're going out with doesn't have to prove how smart he is, what's your response?''That he's dumb.''And if he has a sixpack?''Dumb jock.''Not too intense.''Dumb jock with no personality.''And they see eye to eye?'Ned pauses. 'With the spitfire from Dili?''Same,' Tom corrects.Ned holds up a hand to where Tara would reach him in height.'Dumb jock with no personality and short-man syndrome.''Thanks, Ned.''Anytime.”

“Ned: I figured it was time for a picnic by the menagerie.Jenny: And you brought me? Why not take the woman you're marrying?Ned: She's grown up with the Duke of Ware. Lions seem less ferocious.”

“The performance was exotic. It was short. And it wasn't much more dreadful than the Chinese opera that had been performed last year."Bravo!" Ned called. He applauded madly. Thankfully, everyone joined in.Blakely bowed, rather stiffly, and picked his way through the rows toward his seat. He didn't even make eye contact with Ned, didn't acknowledge that Ned had just saved him.Ha, Just because Blakely had no humility didn't mean Ned couldn't try to humiliate him further."Encore!" Ned shouted.Blakely fixed Ned with a look that promised eventual dismemberment. Luckily for the future attachment of Ned's limbs, nobody else took up the cry.”

“And Miss Ophelia?" he asked, getting round to her at last. "Miss Ophelia? Well, to tell you the truth, Ned, we're all rather worried about her." Ned recoiled as if a wasp had gone up his nose. "Oh? What's the trouble? Nothing serious, I hope." "She's gone all green," I said. "I think it's chlorosis. Dr. Darby thinks so too.”