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 The Solitary Farm
“S’ y’ want t’ merry m’ gel, Bella!” remarked Captain Huxham, rubbing his stout knees slowly, and repeating the exact words of the clerical suitor. “S’ thet she may be yer handmaiden, an’ yer spouse, and yer sealed fountain, es y’ put it in yer flowery pulpit lingo. Jus’ so! Jus’ so!” and shifting the quid which bulged his weather-beaten cheek, he stared with hard blue eyes. “Jus’ so, Mr. Pence!”
The young minister and the elderly skipper discussed the subject of marriage in a shabby antique room of small size, which had the appearance of having been used to more aristocratic company. The dark-oak panelled walls, the grotesquely-carved ceiling-beams, the Dutch-tiled fire-place, with its ungainly brass dogs, and the deep slanting embrasure of the lozenge-paned casement, suggested Georgian beaux and belles dancing buckram minutes, or at least hard-riding country squires plotting Jacobite restoration. But these happenings were in the long-ago, but this stately Essex manor-house had declined woefully from its high estate, and now sheltered a rough and ready mariner, who camped, rather than dwelt, under its roof...

 The Mystery Queen
“A penny for your thoughts, Dad,” cried Lillian, suppressing a school-girl desire to throw one of the nuts on her plate at her father and rouse him from his brown study.
Sir Charles Moon looked up with a start, and drew his bushy grey eye-brows together. “Some people would give more than that to know them, my dear.”
“What sort of people?” asked the young man who sat beside Lillian, industriously cracking filberts for her consumption.
“Dangerous people,” replied Sir Charles grimly, “very dangerous, Dan.”
Mrs. Bolstreath, fat, fair, and fifty, Lillian’s paid companion and chaperon, leaned back complacently. She had enjoyed an excellent dinner: she was beautifully dressed: and shortly she would witness the newest musical comedy; three very good reasons for her amiable expression. “All people are dangerous to millionaires,” she remarked, pointing the compliment at her employer, ‘since all people enjoy life with wealth, and wish to get the millionaire’s money honestly or dishonestly.”
“The people you mention have failed to get mine, Mrs. Bolstreath,” was the millionaire’s dry response.
“Of course I speak generally and not of any particular person, Sir Charles.”...
 

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