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"By the by," he says, once more restored to something like hope, as he notes her drooping lids and changing color and how she hides from his searching gaze her dark, blue, Irish eyes, that, as somebody has so cleverly expressed it, seem "rubbed into her head with a dirty finger," so marked lie the shadows beneath them, that enhance and heighten their beauty,—"by the by, you told me you had a miniature of your mother in your desk, and you promised to show it to me." He merely says this with a view to gaining more time, and not from any overwhelming desire to see the late Mrs. Scully. She is very sweet to look at, and attractive and lovable. "Perhaps. I hope you won't get into a mess there, and make me more unhappy than I am. We are uncomfortable enough without that. You know you are always doing something bizarre,—something rash and uncommon!".
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Conrad
She flushes, opens her lips as if to speak, and yet is dumb,—perhaps through excess of emotion. At this moment, Geoffrey—who has been absent—saunters into the room, and, after a careless glance around, says, lightly, as if missing something,— Then Mrs. Geoffrey turns quickly, and runs home at the top of her speed. She is half sad, yet half exultant, being filled to the very heart with the knowledge that life, joy, and emancipation from present evil lie in her pocket. This thought crowns all others. "Oh, Dorothy, don't do that! Don't, my dearest, my pet!" he entreats. "I won't say another word, not one, if you will only stop.".
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