“To be frank with you, Lady Lescelles, when your brother asked me the other day to be his wife I was under a false impression as regards his relations—with some other person. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. He began really to like Spurlock, despite the shadow of the boy's past, despite his inexplicable attitude toward this glorious girl. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. The militia offered little in the way of relief. His hands came up, his face broke apart.
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