“When she was drinking his liquor and smoking his cigars, Charity couldn't help warming to Sir Humphrey. She almost forgot what a crashing bore he really was.”

“When she looked at him now, she couldn't help thinking that the man he had become bore so little resemblance to the boy he had been. His smile was the only piece of baggage he had carried with him from boyhood into manhood.”

“She realised she was whimpering. Sir held her closer, his hard grip reassuring. This wasn't a dream; he really was here.”

“Also, he was smoking a cigar, and when a man is smoking a cigar, wearing a hat, he has an advantage; it is harder to find out how he feels.”

“No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port, for men: but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy.”

“What are you doing?""What I've wanted to do for a long time."She couldn't move, couldn't think. She was lost in his dark eyes, and as he slowly lowered his head toward hers, she whispered, "Are you going to throttle me, then?"He was laughing when he kissed her.”