“My dear girl, don't talk nonsense to me! You're lazy, that's all that's wrong with you. Why don't you take up social work?”
“My dear girl, you don't consent to an abduction! You consent to an elopement, and I knew you wouldn't do that.”
“Depend upon it, you are just the sort of girl a man would be glad to have for his sister! You don't even know how to swoon, and I daresay if you tried you would make wretched work of it, for all you have is common sense, and of what use is that, pray?”
“What I mean is, like you to have everything you want. Wished it was me, and not Jack, that's all.”
“Wretch! I shan’t allow you to take a rise out of me! I want to talk to you about Jane!”“Who the devil is—Oh, yes, I know! One of your girls!”“My eldest daughter, and, let me remind you, your niece, Alverstoke!”“Unjust, Louisa, I needed no reminder!”“I am bringing the dear child out this season,”[...]“You’ll have to do something about her freckles—if she’s the one I think she is,” he interrupted. “Have you tried citron-water?”“I didn’t invite you to come here to discuss Jane’s appearance!” she snapped.“Well, why did you invite me?”“To ask you to hold a ball in her honour—at Alverstoke House!” she disclosed, rushing her fence.“To do what?”
“I don't know what you may have seen fit to tell her, Venetia, but so far as I understand it you could think of nothing better to do than to beguile her with some farrago about wishing Damerel to strew rose-leaves for you to walk on!" Damerel, who had resumed his seat, had been staring moodily into the fire, but at these words he looked up quickly. "Rose-leaves?" His eyes went to Venetia's face, wickedly quizzing her. "But my dear girl, at this season?" "Be quiet, you wretch!" she said, blushing.”
“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!”