"I wish--" Here she stopped, feeling a little foolish.
"What do you wish ?" "I wish I could do more to please you than wear white--or black--when you like." He gazed at her, always through the single eyeglass.

Even the vaguest approach to emotion or sentiment invariably made him feel stiff and shy.
Realising this, he did not quite understand why he rather liked it in the case of Emily Fox-Seton, though he only liked it remotely and felt his own inaptness a shade absurd.
"Wear yellow or pink occasionally," he said with a brief, awkward laugh.
What large, honest eyes the creature had, like a fine retriever's or those of some nice animal one saw in the Zoo! "I will wear anything you like," she said, the nice eyes meeting his, not the least stupidly, he reflected, though women who were affectionate often looked stupid.

"I will do anything you like; you don't know what you have done for me, Lord Walderhurst." They moved a trifle nearer to each other, this inarticulate pair.

He dropped his eyeglass and patted her shoulder.
"Say 'Walderhurst' or 'James'-- or--or 'my dear,'" he said.

"We are going to be married, you know." And he found himself going to the length of kissing her cheek with some warmth.
"I sometimes wish," she said feelingly, "that it was the fashion to say 'my lord' as Lady Castlewood used to do in 'Esmond.' I always thought it nice." "Women are not so respectful to their husbands in these days," he answered, with his short laugh.