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Perhaps Longfellow has more cleverly—and certainly more tenderly—than any other poet described the earlier approaches of the god of Love, when he says,— "There are landlords, at least; and very excellent shooting they are, if all accounts be true," says Geoffrey, with a grin,—"to say nothing of the partridge and grouse. Besides, it will be an experience; and a man should say 'how d'ye do?' to his tenants sometimes." "What have I said?" she asks, half plaintively. "You laugh, yet I did not mean to be funny. Tell me what I said.".
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Conrad
"Yes, blue looks very nice on me. Geoffrey, if Uncle Brian hears of this, will he be angry?" Alas! alas! what foul deed may even now be doing while she stands here powerless to avert it,—her efforts all in vain! How richly shines the sweet heaven, studded with its stars! how cool, how fragrant, is the breeze! How the tiny wavelets move and sparkle in the glorious bay below. How fair a world it is to hold such depths of sin! Why should not rain and storms and howling tempest mark a night so—— "No; I am quite warm," says Mona, in a low, sad tone. "You shall guess," says Mrs. Geoffrey, gayly, with a little laugh. "Now, where do you think?".
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