Ernest William Hornung

“ You know the clangour of a station bell; of all sounds the last that it resembles is that of the funeral knell; yet this was its echo in the heart of Gladys.
'Well, it's only for a week, after all, isn't it, Gladdie? It will be the weariest week of my life, I know. But I shan't mind—after all, it's my own doing—if only you come back with a better colour. You have been so pale, Gladdie, these last few days—pale and excitable. ”

“ One would think you were going for ever.'
'Who knows, Lady Bligh? There are accidents every day. That's why I'm thankful to be leaving like this.'
Lady Bligh hated sentimentality. Only the intense earnestness of the girl's voice and manner restrained her from laughing; sentimentality was only fit to be laughed at; but this was sentimentality of a puzzling kind.
A minute later, with passionate kisses and incoherent expressions, out of all proportion to the occasion, and fairly bewildering to poor Lady Bligh, Gladys was gone.
Alfred scanned her narrowly as they drove to the station. ”

“ By the way she kept turning round to gaze backward, you would have thought her anxious to 'see the last of' things, as small boys are when the holidays are over, and bigger boys when they go finally out into the world. ”