Anthony Hope

“ Lord Thrapston rose from his seat.
“You must do what you like,” he said. “I’m going to tell Calder.”
“Oh, why?”
“Because,” he answered, “I’m a man of honor.”
Before the impressive invocation of her grandfather’s one religion, Agatha’s opposition collapsed.
“I suppose he must be told,” she admitted mournfully. “I expect he’ll never speak to me again, and I’m sure Mr. Merceron won’t;” and she sat on the footstool, the picture of dejection.
Lord Thrapston was moved to enunciate a solemn truth.
“Aggy,” said he, shaking his finger at her, “in this world you can’t have your fun for nothing.” ”

“ It is needless to repeat what Mrs. Blunt said. Her censures will have been long ago anticipated by every right-thinking person, and if she softened them down a little more than strict justice allowed, it must have been because Agatha was an old favorite of hers, and Lord Thrapston an old antipathy. Upon her word, she always wondered that the poor child, brought up by that horrid old man, was not twice as bad as she was. ”

“ Because it seemed to her entirely impossible that, in spite of her prayer, he should put the letter in the fire and let her go. Surely he too remembered the dear old Pool, and the temple, and—the rest! ”