E. R. Punshon

“ Deede Dawson said impatiently. “If you want the girl you must win her. It can be done, but it won't be easy.”
“Tell me how,” said Dunn.
“Oh, that's going too fast and too far,” answered the other with his mirthless laugh. “Now, there's Mr. John Clive—what about him?”
“I'll answer for him,” replied Dunn slowly and thickly. “I've put better men than John Clive out of my way before today.”
“That's the way to talk,” cried Deede Dawson. “Dunn, dare you play a big game for big stakes?” ”

“ She shook her head slightly, but she was watching him very intently from her clear, candid eyes, and now, as always, her nearness to him, the infinite appeal he found in her every look and movement, the very fragrance of her hair, bore him away beyond all purpose and intention.
“Tell me what it is,” he said again. “Won't you? Miss Cayley, if you and I were to trust each other—it's not difficult to see there's something troubling you.”
“Most people have some trouble or another,” she answered evasively. ”

“ Clive was a little vexed, though he took no notice, I suppose he couldn't very well.”
“I don't like the man at all,” Mrs. Dawson repeated. “All that hair, too. Do you like him?”
“I don't know,” Ella answered, and after she and her mother had returned from their walk she took occasion to find Dunn in the garden and ask him some trifling question or another. ”