Anger unplaced, undefined, yet nevertheless intense.
"With pleasure," says she to Sir Hastings, smiling at him almost across Hardinge's outstretched hand.

The latter draws back.
"You dismiss me ?" says he, with a careful smile.

He bows to her--he is gone.
"A well-meaning young man," says Sir Hastings, following Hardinge's retreating figure with a delightfully lenient smile.

"Good-looking too; but earnest.

Have you noticed it?
Entirely well-bred, but just a little earnest! _Such_ a mistake!" "I don't think that," says Perpetua.