Marie Belloc Lowndes

“ He wants the field clear for himself!” And then she had seemed to regret her imprudent words, and she had begged Mabel not to give the count any hint of her suspicion. Mrs, Blackett, till a moment ago, had faithfully kept her promise; even now she did not mean to break it.
She grew still redder, for she retained, to the count's satisfaction, the youthful habit of blushing.
“Of course I don't think you a hypocrite,” she said awkwardly; “but you never did like poor Anna—and you are always telling me that Enghien isn't a place where a nice woman ought to stay long. ”

“ There is in every woman a passion for romance. In Mabel Blackett this passion had been balked, not satisfied, by her first marriage. Oldchester's devotion had touched her, the more so that it was expressed in actions rather than words, for he was the type of man—seldom unfortunately a romantic type—who would have scorned to take advantage of his fiduciary position. ”

“ Mrs. Blackett shook her head. Somehow she did not care to joke about Anna Olsen's departure. The Danish woman's odd, and to her inexplicable, conduct had real hurt her.
The count leaned forward, and, speaking this time with the banter gone out of his voice, he said:
“Listen. I am now going to speak to you as frankly as if you were my—my sister. You should not waste a moment of your time in regretting Madame Olsen. She was no friend for you. She was an unhappy woman held tightly in the paws of the tiger—Play. That is the truth, ma belle petite madame. ”

“ They never go to the Casino on Saturday afternoons.”
A cloud came over the count's face.
“I can't think what you see to like in that vulgar old couple,” he exclaimed irritably. “To me there is something”—he hesitated, seeking for an English word which should exactly express the French word touche—“sinistaire—that is the word I am looking for—there is to me something sinistaire about the Wachners.”
“Sinister?” repeated Mabel, surprised. “Why, they seem to me to be the most good-natured, commonplace people in the world; and then they're so fond of one another!” ”

“ Since she had got to know him so much better, she sometimes wondered, a little sorely, why he never suggested introducing her to any of “his people.” Mabel could not understand the Comte De Poupel, and her feelings about him disturbed, almost angered, her.
But just now, on this hot Saturday afternoon, Mabel Blackett's thoughts were being forced into a new channel, and one that led to the temporary exclusion of all that concerned her present life. ”

“ The Pension Noir was very prosperous, and accordingly the garden was cared for and well kept; just now it was brilliant with the serpentine bedding-out to which the old-fashioned French gardener is addicted, and cool with the plashing of fountains. ”

“ I suppose—I hope”—he looked again straight into Mabel Blackett's ingenuous, blue eyes—“that the Wachners have never tried to borrow money of you?”
“Never!” she cried, blushing violently. “Never, Count Paul! Your dislike of my poor friends makes you unjust—it really does.” ”