E. Nesbit

“ Hilary, by the way, went to London for the day about a fortnight ago. Since when we have used no other. I mean he’s lost to sight. I wonder whether he’s got run over or run in or run away with. Why didn’t you tell me he was a landed proprietor in these parts? Why don’t you come down and turn that chauffeur’s head? You could, easily. You nearly turned mine once, do you know? There’s a confession for you! But, of course, I knew it was no use, so I choked it down in my strong, stern, silent way. Ah, Daphne, little do you know the depth of a strong man’s agony! ”

“ For now she saw Henry every day—a Henry no longer uncertain and capricious, but one devoted and tender, gentle and loving—the man she had made of that other Henry, the man Henry would always be.
Other people’s stories, too, were moving quickly toward their fairy-tale endings. Other people were preparing, quite definitely and with no nonsense about it, to live happy ever after. Mr. Seddon’s engagement to the Botticellian Madeleine had been from the first a foregone conclusion; still it was pleasant to hear of their assured happiness. ”

“ You can’t keep all on marrying people. And besides—we were both old—and—— But I should have liked to keep house for him. He wished it. Only your Aunt Emily told him it would not be at all the thing. I never knew he had wished it till the end. So you were sent to school. And your father wouldn’t have you home, because he was afraid Doris might find out about her mother. He was weak, dear; that’s what it was, weak.”
“And my mother was strong,” said Daphne, musingly. ”

“ In either case a really high-souled youth would then get an innings. No one wears a moustache unless he has some fatal weakness or grossness to conceal. Reflections like this are my only comfort. Now you pack up and come along, because this is where you’re really wanted. See?”
Cousin Jane was the only person to whom Daphne confided the news of her happiness. The Russian being now well again, Miss Claringbold had returned, much against his will, to Fitzroy Street, so that such a confidence became necessary as well as kind. ”

“ The kind of man who’s good at theatricals and fancy dress, and he can play all those loathsome games where you give everyone a pencil and a little bit of paper, and keep saying, ‘Hurry up—you’ve had ten minutes and everyone else has done.’ He has always done. ”