'She is intensely French,' Rosamund said to Nevil--a volume of insular criticism in a sentence.
'You do not know her, ma'am,' said Nevil.

'You think her older than she is, and that is the error I fell into.

She is a child.' 'A serpent in the egg is none the less a serpent, Nevil.

Forgive me; but when she tells you the case is hopeless!' 'No case is hopeless till a man consents to think it is; and I shall stay.' 'But then again, Nevil, you have not consulted your uncle.' 'Let him see her! let him only see her!' Rosamund Culling reserved her opinion compassionately.

His uncle would soon be calling to have him home: society panted for him to make much of him and here he was, cursed by one of his notions of duty, in attendance on a captious 'young French beauty, who was the less to be excused for not dismissing him peremptorily, if she cared for him at all.