“By gad, is that you, Ainswood? I haven't seen you in a dog's age. How's the gout? Still troubling you?”

“I'm in a mood to knock someone down, and you'll do very well.""Don't tell me," Longmore said. "The dressmaker doesn't want you, either. By gad, this isn't your day, is it? Not your week, rather.”

“Jessica, I know I've been...difficult," he said. "All the same—""Difficult?" She looked up, her grey eyes wide, "You have been impossible. I begin to think you are not right in the upper storey. I knew you wanted me. The only thing I've never doubted was that. But getting you into bed— you, the greatest whoremonger in Christendom— gad, it was worse than the time I had to drag Bertie to the tooth-drawer. And if you think I mean to be doing that the rest of our days, you had better think again. The next time, my lord, you will do the seducing— or there won't be any, I vow.”

“If this is how it's going to be -you getting all broody and distracted every time you fall in lust with somebody -well, I haven't the stomach for it. I won't put up with it, not for a dukedom. Not for three dukedoms. I deserve better than the role of a quietly accepting wife. I'm an interesting woman. I read. I have opinions. I appreciate poetry. I have a sense of humor." "I know all that. I've always known." "I deserve to be loved, truly loved -mind, body and soul. And in case you haven't noticed, there's a line of men ready to give me all that. Why on earth should I settle for a man who can't give me anything but friendship. Why should I settle for you?”

“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 is what I like about you, Mr. Dashwood," she said. "You are so decisive. It saves me the bother of thinking for myself.""That is what I like about you, Mrs. Dashwood," he said. "You are so sarcastic. It saves me the trouble of trying to be tactful and charming.”

“Jessica, you are a pain in the arse, do you know that? If I were not so immensely fond of you, I should throw you out the window."She wrapped her arms about his waist and laid her head against his chest. "Not merely 'fond,' but 'immensely fond.' Oh Dain, I do believe I shall swoon.""Not now," he said crossly. "I haven't time to pick you up.”