Good night.' Diana summoned all the dignity that she could manage in her bedraggled state and began to move back up the beach. Her dress was soaked and her stockings dotted with sand and her heart couldn't possibly withstand any more.
A man is made in the rough-and-tumble of the world a lady emerges from the flossy back rooms of her own imagination.
She found herself longing for home-not just for the hotel but for New York and all the real novels that she could lose herself in there.
That was how the heroine of a book would play it and Diana was still writing her own story the best heroines she'd always believed took their fate into their own hands.
She was like a heroine in a novel that she herself was writing the character kept protesting that she was too strong for love and yet the narrator went on describing her desire.
Even when a girl is married she still never completely leaves her mother and father's home.
A young lady's most natural ally is her sister although sometimes our own relatives are as inscrutable to us as an antipodean.
Henry shook his head, 'I was drunk,' he said, trying to sound both ashamed and firm in this belief. He remembered the rosebush incident very clearly, of course, but he knew that sneaking into the bedroom window of his fiancee's little sister wasn't something he wanted to explain to his father. Sometimes, Henry reflected, being taken for a perpetual drunk was sort of convenient.
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