Anthony Hope

“ All the same, I fancy Mr. Beaumaroy does himself less than justice.” He laughed. “We shall be able to judge of that when we know him better.”
“At all events, Miss Gertie, look out that I don’t fake the score at tennis!” said Beaumaroy.
“A man might be capable of murder, but not capable of that,” said Alec.
“A truly British sentiment!” cried his father. “Tom, we have got back to the national ideals.”
The discussion ended in laughter, and the talk turned to lighter matters; but, as Mary Arkroyd drove Cynthia home across the heath, her thoughts returned to it. ”

“ Beaumaroy!” exclaimed his hostess, scandalized; while the two girls, Cynthia and Gertie, laughed.
“I mean it. Can you see human life treated as dirt, absolutely as cheap as dirt, for three years, and come out thinking it worth anything? Can you fight for your own hand, right or wrong? ”

“ Hector Beaumaroy.
“How very awkward!” exclaimed Mary. She had prided herself on a rigorous abstention from “poaching”; she fancied that men were very ready to accuse women of not “playing the game” and had been resolved to give no color to such an accusation. “Mr. Saffron has sent for me—professionally. He’s ill, it seems,” she said to Cynthia.
“Why shouldn’t he?”
“Because he is a patient of Dr. Irechester, not a patient of mine.”
“But people often change their doctors, don’t they? He thinks you’re cleverer, I suppose, and I expect you are really.” ”