None of those things interest me, Henry.

I fear--I am very much inclined to say that none of your doings interest me.

Least of all," she went on, her voice quivering with passion, "do I appreciate in the least these mysterious appeals for my patience.

I have some common sense, Henry." "You're a suspicious little beast," he told her.
"Suspicious!" she scoffed.

"What a word to use from a man who goes off fishing for whiting, and is lunching at the Carlton, some days afterwards, with two ladies of extraordinary attractions!" "That was a trifle awkward," Sir Henry admitted, with a little burst of candour, "but it goes in with the rest, Philippa." "Then it can stay with the rest," she retorted, "exactly where I have placed it in my mind.