"Well," she said defiantly, "isn't that one obstacle to our marriage removed?
Your aunts will go to the Dower House, and your mother will leave Barracombe, and you'll have the place all to yourself.

And you dare to tell me you're sorry ?" "Yes," said Peter, sitting up and facing her, "I dare." "I'm glad of that," said Sarah.

Her deep voice softened.

"I should have thought less of you if you hadn't dared." Suddenly she rose from her mossy throne, shook the crumbs off her skirt, and looked down upon Peter with blue eyes sparkling beneath her long lashes, and the fresh red colour deepening and spreading in her cheeks, until even the tips of her delicate ears and her creamy throat turned pink.
"_Well_," said Sarah, "go and stop it.

Make your mother sorry and ashamed.