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A strange feeling of shyness is weighing upon her. Her stalwart English lover is standing close beside her, having risen from his chair with his eyes on hers, and in his shirt-sleeves looking more than usually handsome because of his pallor, and because of the dark circles that, lying beneath his eyes, throw out their color, making them darker, deeper, than is their nature. How shall she bare the arm of this young Adonis?—how help to heal his wound? Oh, Larry Moloney, what hast thou not got to answer for! "And 'A dumb priest loses his benefice,'" quotes Mona, in her turn, almost gayly too. "What a different life mine might have been had I known you earlier!" Then, with a faint flush, that vanishes almost as it comes, as though without power to stay, he says, "Did your husband object to your coming here?".
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Conrad
"You mustn't call her names, you know; she is my wife," says Rodney, gently, but with dignity,—"the woman I love and honor most on earth. When you see her you will understand how the word 'low' could never apply to her. She looks quite correct, and is perfectly lovely." Then she is pleased, and slips her hand into his, and goes along the quiet road, beside him with a heart in which high jubilee holds sway. "I shall always love you," says the girl, with sweet seriousness, "better than my life. But in that case I should always, too have a regret." "Will not, you mean!".
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