"There are bloodless conquests, wherein the conquerors of the world are conquered themselves." The baronet scowled.

Miss Hunsden retorted saucily.

She and Lord Ernest kept up a brilliant wordy war.
He sat like a silent fool--like an imbecile, he said to himself, glowering malignantly.

He was madly in love, and he was furiously jealous.

What business had this ginger-whiskered young lordling interloping here?
And how disgustingly self-assured and at home he was! He tried to talk to the captain, but it was a miserable failure.
It was a relief when a servant entered with the mailbag.
"The mail reaches us late," Captain Hunsden said, as he opened it.