I feel an almost overwhelming interest in the methods of daylight abduction employed by the modern youth.

My dear girl, you don't consent to an abduction! You consent to an elopement, and I knew you wouldn't do that.

If I must consort with rogues [...] I own I like them to be in the grand manner.

[...]if you talk any more flummery to me, Frederica, I shall give you one of my—er—icy set-downs!”(Alverstoke)

That drew a laugh from Jessamy, but he said, after a moment: “You had better flay me. It was my fault—all my fault!”

“I was wondering how long it would be before you contrived to convince yourself that you were to blame,” said Alverstoke caustically. “I haven’t the slightest wish to know how you arrived at such an addlebrained conclusion, so don’t put yourself to the trouble of telling me!

You're only a man! You've not our gifts! I can tell you! Why, a woman can think of a hundred different things at once, all them contradictory!