“She was a dreamer and a schemer & one didnt dream and scheme without hope.”

“Dain kept his gaze on his plate and concentrated on swallowing the morsel he'd just very nearly choked on. She was possessive... about him.The beautiful, mad creature - or blind and deaf creature, or whatever she was - coolly announced it as one might say, "Pass the salt cellar," without the smallest awareness that the earth had just tilted on its axis.”

“I have a plan," he said."Yes," she said."Let's get married," he said."Yes," she said."Let's conquer the world," he said."Yes," she said. No one in her family had ever been accused of dreaming small."Let's bring the beau monde to its knees.""Yes.""Let's make them beg for your creations.""Yes," she said. "Yes, yes, yes.""Is tomorrow too soon?" he said."No." she said. "We've a great deal to do, you and I, conquering the world. We must start at once. We've not a minute to lose.""I love hearing you say that," he said.He kissed her. It lasted a long time. And they would last, she was sure, a lifetime. On that she'd wager anything.”

“Did you know you could kill a person with a hatpin?” she said.“I did not,” he said. “Do you speak from experience? Have you murdered anybody? Not that I’d dream of criticizing.”

“Adieu, Lord Dain,” she answered without turning her head. “Have a pleasant evening with your cows.”Cows?She was merely trying to provoke him, Dain told himself. The remark was a pathetic attempt at a setdown. To take offense was to admit he’d felt the sting. He told himself to laugh and return to his… cows.”

“That man," she said in low but still audible tones, "is an idiot.""Yes, madam, but he's all we've got.""I may be stupid," Rupert said, "but I'm irresistibly attractive.""Good grief, conceited too," she muttered."And being a great, dumb ox," he went on, "I'm wonderfully easy to manage."She paused and turned to Beechey. "Are you sure there's no one else?”

“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.”