‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. I just like you, Mary, and we’ve had a lot of fun. It was obviously pitched well, hitting her head at a good thirtyfive miles per hour. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. "And so shall I," replied Edgeworth Bess. She is no longer mine; she is yours. Then the work is optional; they go on their own. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all.
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