H. C. Bailey

“ Colonel Boyce had followed. He laid his hand on Harry's shoulder: "My son, ma'am," said he.
Mrs. Weston's eyes grew wide, and her face was white and drawn, and she swayed. As Harry bowed to her, a lacquered box was swept off the table with a great clatter, and Colonel Boyce cried, "Odds life, Harry, you are a clumsy fellow. Here, man, here," and made a great commotion over picking it up.
Alison had her arm about Mrs. Weston: "Why, Weston, dear, what is it? Are you seeing a ghost?" She laughed. "Pray, Mr. Boyce, come to life."
"I ask pardon, ma'am." Harry rose with the box. ”

“ Lady Waverton simpered at her son. He chose to ignore the hint. "Why, Colonel, if a man is happily placed above vulgar needs, the more reason—"
"Vulgar needs! Oh, fie, Mr. Waverton. A divine creature." Colonel Boyce looked wicked, and his easy hand designed in the air Miss Lambourne's shape.
Lady Waverton tittered. Geoffrey blushed, and "You do me too much honour sir, indeed," he stammered.
Colonel Boyce turned smiling upon Lady Waverton. "I vow, ma'am, a man hath twice the modesty of a maid."
"You are a bad fellow," said Lady Waverton, very well pleased.
"You go too fast, sir;" ”

“ You have no audience Mr. Boyce. Stop acting, and tell me—what is wrong with me?"
Harry considered her with calm criticism. "It's not for me to tell Miss Lambourne that she is too beautiful."
"Indeed, I thought you had more sense."
"Too beautiful," Harry persisted deliberately; "too beautiful to be good company."
"That will not serve, sir. You are not so inflammable. Being more in the nature of a tortoise."
"If you had a flaw or so: if your nose had a twist; if your cheeks had felt the weather; if—I fear, ma'am, I grow intimate. In fine, if you were less fine, you would be a comfort to a man. ”