conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Heyer, Georgette, Regency with the genre: Biographies & Memoirs, Arts & Literature?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Georgette Heyer'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first four paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  Just when Sir Richard Wyndham could use an escape from the most momentous decision of his life, he encounters lovely young fugitive Penelope Creed, dressed in boy's clothing, determined to make her own escape.
  Sophy Stanton-Lacy descends on her cousins' household just in time to untangle everyone's problems but her own, and the Hon. Charles Rivenhall's life will never be the same.
  Mistress of her aunt's elegant gambling house, beautiful Deborah Grantham is outraged when the insufferable Max Ravenscar tries to bribe her not to marry his puppyish nephew.
  Miss Judith Taverner and her brother Peregrine are shocked to find their new guardian is not much older than they are and would be glad to be rid of them. But soon Lord Worth cannot help but entangle himself with his adventuresome wards.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide four more paragraphs.. End with the sentence ' In an adventure more thrilling than his days battling Napoleon, he must bring the villains to justice and rescue the charming Lady Nell.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Intelligent and beautiful Venetia and rakish Lord Damerel are clearly soul mates. She is daring and brilliant in her solution to overcoming the barriers society puts in their path, as well as his doubts. As gorgeous a love match as Darcy and Elizabeth.
  When a country cousin inherits the noble Darracott fortune, he pretends to be the bumpkin they're all expecting. Then a family crisis makes Hugo an unlikely savior, and the farce unravels. But not before his beautiful cousin Anthea discovers she's met her match.
  Upon returning from war, Gervase Frant happens upon the young woman his half brother has his eye on. When romance blossoms, his family goes from unfriendly to murderous. Are these "accidents," or has Gervase's family decided to rid themselves of his presence permanently?
  Captain John Staple takes an invigorating ride and happens upon a toll-gate where the gatekeeper has mysteriously disappeared. In an adventure more thrilling than his days battling Napoleon, he must bring the villains to justice and rescue the charming Lady Nell.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: As much fun to read as Heyer's own novels, beautifully illustrated, and meticulously researched, Jennifer Kloester's essential guide brings the world of the Regency to life for Heyer fans and Jane Austen fans alike.
  An internationally bestselling phenomenon and queen of the Regency romance, is one of the most beloved historical novelists of our time. She wrote more than fifty novels, yet her private life was inaccessible to any but her nearest friends and relatives.
  Lavishly illustrated and with access to private papers, correspondence and family archives, this classic biography opens a window into 's world and that of her most memorable characters, revealing a formidable, energetic woman with an impeccable sense of style and, beyond everything, a love for all things Regency.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lavishly illustrated and with access to private papers, correspondence and family archives, this classic biography opens a window into 's world and that of her most memorable characters, revealing a formidable, energetic woman with an impeccable sense of style and, beyond everything, a love for all things Regency.
  An internationally bestselling phenomenon and queen of the Regency romance, is one of the most beloved historical novelists of our time. She wrote more than fifty novels, yet her private life was inaccessible to any but her nearest friends and relatives.As much fun to read as Heyer's own novels, beautifully illustrated, and meticulously researched, Jennifer Kloester's essential guide brings the world of the Regency to life for Heyer fans and Jane Austen fans alike.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first three paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  Clad in his customary black and silver, with raven hair unpowdered and elaborately dressed, diamonds on his fingers and in his cravat, Hugh Tracy Clare Belmanoir, Duke of Andover, sat at the escritoire in the library of his town house, writing.
  He wore no rouge on his face, the almost unnatural pallor of which seemed designedly enhanced by a patch set beneath his right eye. Brows and lashes were black, the former slanting slightly up at the corners, but his narrow, heavy-lidded eyes were green and strangely piercing. The thin lips curled a little, sneering, as one dead-white hand travelled to and fro across the paper.
  His Grace of Andover paused, pen held in mid-air. A mocking smile dawned in his eyes, and he wrote again.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Presently O'Hara fell a little to the rear that he might study his friend without palpably turning to do so. He thought he had never seen Jack's face wear such a black look. The fine brows almost met over his nose with only two sharp furrows to separate them; the mouth was compressed, the chin a little prominent, and the eyes, staring ahead between Jenny's nervous ears, seemed to see all without absorbing anything. One hand at his hip was clenched on his riding-whip, the other mechanically guided the mare.
  O'Hara found himself admiring the lithe grace of the man, with his upright carriage and splendid seat.
  Suddenly, as if aware that he was being studied, my lord half turned his head and met O'Hara's eyes. He gave a tiny shrug and with it seemed to throw off his oppression. The frown vanished, and he smiled.
  From thence onward he set himself to entertain his friend, and if his laugh was sometimes rather forced, at least his wit was enough to keep O'Hara in a pleasurable state of amusement for some miles.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She and Jack are prodigious happy together; it is most Unfashionable, but so am I happy with Dick, so there are a Pair of us, and we had best set Fashion.
  Pray, return soon, my dear Tracy, you cannot conceive how I miss you. I was surprised you went away with Mr Fortescue, I had no Notion you were so friendly.
  P.S. – Twill interest you to hear that Miss Gunning is to marry Coventry. 'Tis all over Town this last Week.
  Fortescue read the letter through, and at the end folded it and handed it back in silence. Tracy laid it down on the table at his elbow.
  For a moment his Grace was silent, and then back came the old smile, still cynical, yet with less of the sneer in it.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  In general, he was by no means popular with the more ruthless sex, most of whom, in defiance of all attempts to enlighten their minds, continued to let instinct govern their impulses, and maintained an obstinate preference for stalwart males who showed every sign of being able and willing to defend their own. Some of these ladies who had spent the war-years doing rescue work in blitzed areas, could scarcely look at him without wishing to hand him a white feather. Mr Harte, who possessed an elegant leather case containing a row of miniature medals which made his mother's heart swell with pride, was more tolerant. He said that Lord Guisborough's war-time activities were not due to common funk, but to a form of beany intellectualism, and bore him not the slightest ill-will for his failure to share in the heat and burden of the day. But he did think that his remarks on the subject of oysters lacked civility to his hostess, and were deserving of punishment, so he remarked, in what he knew his victim would consider an Oxford drawl, that it was extremely doubtful that the masses would appreciate the addition of these bivalves to their diet.
  Since his lordship was unable to refute this piece of recondite knowledge, he could think of no adequate retort, and therefore said nothing. So, having successfully put him in his place, Timothy continued in an easy, conversational tone: 'Rather odd, the way different foods go in and out of fashion. My mother tells me that when she was a girl, for instance, scallops, which we think very well of, were considered to be too cheap and common to figure on any menu.'
  Mrs Haddington, although she could not but be glad of the intervention, uttered a reproving exclamation, looking rather anxiously at her daughter as she did so. Cynthia was in one of her petulant moods, rejecting most of the dishes offered to her, fidgeting with the cutlery, and taking no pains at all to be polite to her mother's guests.
  In this he was mistaken. Mrs Haddington might be grateful to him for trying to cover up her daughter's lapse, but she could scarcely be expected to contemplate with pleasure the prospect of seeing the smooth running of her Bridgeparty disturbed by the interruption of a telephone-call. Her response, though civil, was so lacking in cordiality that even Lord Guisborough became conscious of an atmosphere of constraint. However, Timothy was inspired to ask Cynthia if she had seen the latest gangster-film, showing at the Orpheum, a gambit which dispelled her ill-humour, and induced her to launch forth into an animated and enthusiastic discussion on this and several other films of the same order. The rest of dinner passed without untoward incident. Mrs Haddington rose from the table, playfully apologising for not being able to allow her male guests more than ten minutes with the port, and inviting them to join her in her boudoir for coffee. She then led the way out of the room, and while Cynthia went up to her bedroom to put more powder on her face and to exaggerate the already beautiful curve of her upper lip, she reminded Beulah what her various duties would be during the rest of the evening. Obedient to her command, Seaton-Carew brought his fellow-guests up to the boudoir in good time; and Thrimby, leaving a couple of flurried subordinates to clear away the remains of dinner and transform the dining-room into a refresh ment buffet, followed him with the coffee-tray, which he majestically offered to everyone in turn. Cynthia reappeared just as he was leaving the room, and nearly caused Seaton-Carew to spill his coffee by seizing his free hand and saying: 'Oh, Dan darling, I've something fright fully important I want to tell you! Do come up to the drawing-room!'
  Cynthia pouted, and protested, but before her voice had developed more than a hint of a whining note her harassed parent had inexorably swept Mr Seaton-Carew off to the library, to discuss with him, she said, certain minor details of the approaching contest.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Inspector was silent. Hemingway rose, and took his overcoat off the stand in one corner of the room. 'We won't waste any time,' he said. 'We'll go along to Charles Street now.'
  The Inspector had not exaggerated the spirit of unrest brooding over the house in Charles Street. In defiance of her mother's wishes, Cynthia had spent the previous evening with Lord Guisborough, at a night-club; and, returning home in the small hours of the morning, had flung herself into bed without troubling even to remove the make-up from her face. Her mother, coming out of her own bedroom in a trailing velvet dressing-gown, met her on the landing, and exclaimed reproachfully. Cynthia, declaring with far from perfect diction that she refused to be spied upon, went into her room, and slammed the door.
  This ingenuous exposition of what afforded her cherished daughter amusement appeared to daunt Mrs Haddington. She said nothing; so Cynthia added: 'If you can get Lance to forget the starving millions, and you easily can, he's too sweet for words! Of course, he isn't half as good-looking as Timothy, but Timothy wouldn't have the guts to muscle into a club he didn't belong to, and, anyway, it isn't me Timothy's after!'
  Mrs Haddington was a hardheaded woman, but she had her blind spot. It was inconceivable to her that any man, beholding her daughter, could look twice at any other female. She said sharply: 'Nonsense! If he isn't after you, why does he come here? You seem to forget that I found you practically in his arms yesterday afternoon!'
  This mildly-worded request precipitated a minor crisis. Cynthia, whose fancy had prompted her to spray herself idly with scent from a cut-glass flagon, was goaded into hurling this expensive toy into the tiled grate, where it was shattered. However, this ebullition of temper had the happy effect of inducing her to get up, because not even she could remain in an atmosphere so redolent with the perfumes of Araby as to make her head swim. In a mood of sulky tearfulness, she presently descended the stairs to the boudoir, where Miss Spennymoor was patiently awaiting her.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last four paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'Mrs Kane shivered'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Mrs Kane shivered. 'However nit-witted she may be, it's pretty ghastly for her, knowing that her mother was a murderess.'
  Mr Kane grinned. 'I did. All due to my well-known tact and diplomacy, too! I passed on to Mother what Timothy told me, which wasn't a lot, but quite enough for Mother. I don't know the rights of it, but it does seem as though Beulah was made a sort of catspaw of by some nasty piece of work she was employed by in the City. Anyway, Timothy said she'd had the rawest of raw deals, the which I faithfully reported. You know Mother! All up in arms in defence of her sex before you could say knife! As a matter of fact, I think she and Beulah will get on all right. I didn't take to the girl at first, but when you get to know her she isn't a bad kid at all. Madly in love with Timothy!'
  The door opened to admit Miss Susan Kane and Master William Kane, washed, brushed, and escorted by their amiable tyrant. 'Are Mummy and Daddy ready for us?' enquired this lady winningly. 'May we play in here while Nanny pops the casserole in the oven? Ever so excited we are to have Daddy back again, and to hear all about the new Auntie we're going to have, aren't we, my ducks?'
  So saying, the despot surrendered Master William Kane to his mother, smiled kindly upon Mr Kane, and withdrew,
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first three paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  As for the Marquis, finding himself with time on his hands, he strolled round to Half Moon Street to visit the most congenial of his relatives.
  Although it was past noon, he found this worthy still attired in a dressing-gown, and without his wig. The remains of breakfast stood upon the table, but my Lord Rupert Alastair seemed to have finished this repast, and was smoking a long pipe, and reading his letters. He looked up as the door opened, and made a grab at his wig, which lay conveniently on the sofa beside him, but when he saw his nephew he relaxed again. He grinned. 'Ain't it plain enough, O my uncle? Mr Tremlowe would be gratified by the payment of his bill. Who the devil's Mr Tremlowe?'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about Vidal, running.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  As for the Marquis, finding himself with time on his hands, he strolled round to Half Moon Street to visit the most congenial of his relatives. 
  Although it was past noon, he found this worthy still attired in a dressing-gown, and without his wig. The remains of breakfast stood upon the table, but my Lord Rupert Alastair seemed to have finished this repast, and was smoking a long pipe, and reading his letters. He looked up as the door opened, and made a grab at his wig, which lay conveniently on the sofa beside him, but when he saw his nephew he relaxed again. 
  Vidal laid down his hat and cane and came to the fire, running his eye over the note he held. He grinned. 'Ain't it plain enough, O my uncle? Mr Tremlowe would be gratified by the payment of his bill. Who the devil's Mr Tremlowe?'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lady Fanny arose in her wrath. 'I vow and declare I never met with such ingratitude!' she said. 'I wish I had sent John to Avon, as I promise you I'd half a mind to.'
  Léonie softened instantly. 'Well, I am sorry, Fanny, but you said worse of my son than I said of yours, and you said it first.'
  For a moment it seemed as though her ladyship would stalk from the room, but in the end she relented, and said pacifically that she would not add to the disasters befalling the family by quarrelling with Léonie. She then demanded to be told how Léonie proposed to avert the gathering scandal.
  Léonie shook her head. 'No. Monseigneur is to know nothing. I cannot bear it if there is to be more trouble between him and Dominique.'
  Fanny sat down limply. 'I could shake you, Léonie; I vow I could! Avon will be in town again by the end of the week, and when he finds you and Rupert gone off together he'll come to me, and what, pray, am I to tell him?'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.. End with the sentence '''.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Ten minutes later Miss Marling came in to find her friend seated at the Duchess's feet, with both her hands clasped in Léonie's. She said brightly: 'Oh, Aunt Léonie, is it all decided, then? Has my Uncle Justin given his consent? I vow it is famous!'
  Léonie released Miss Challoner and stood up. 'Yes, it is quite famous, as you say, Juliana, for now I am to have a daughter, which will amuse me very much, and Dominique is to make no more scandals. Where is M. Comyn? Do not tell me you have quarrelled again?'
  His grace sipped the wine, while Lord Rupert watched him anxiously. The Duke said: 'Almost the only evidence of intelligence I find in you, Rupert, lies in your ability to pick a wine. Decidedly I will buy it.'
  His uncle was quite unabashed. 'Mary! so it is. Sophia was t'other one. Well, give her a glass, my boy. I've a toast for you to drink.'
  Léonie accepted the glass her son handed her. 'Yes, it is true that I wish very much to drink to my son and daughter,' she said. 'Go on, Rupert.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first two paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  Mrs Scattergood met them upon their return to the house, and having exclaimed at seeing her young cousin (whom she had not expected to be in Brighton for some days), extended a cordial invitation to him to accompany them to the play that evening. He accepted with evident pleasure, and after sitting with the ladies for a little while, took his leave of them with a promise of meeting them again later at the theatre.
  The theatre, which Mrs Scattergood and Miss Taverner had passed during the course of their morning's walk, was situated in the New Road, and though not large, was a handsome building, fitted up with every attention to comfort. The pit and gallery were roomy, and two tiers of lofty boxes, ornamented with gold-fringed draperies, provided ample accommodation for the more genteel part of the audience. The Regent's box, on the left of the stage, which was separated from the others by a richly gilt iron lattice-work, was empty, but nearly all the others were occupied. Miss Taverner's time, before the curtain went up, was fully engaged in bowing to those of her acquaintance who were present; Mrs Scattergood's in closely observing every cap and turban in the house, and preferring her own to them all.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide four more paragraphs.. End with the sentence ' But if only Mrs Scattergood could be fetched –''.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She managed to get up, though her knees still shook. 'It does not signify talking. You are determined to despise me.'
  There was a moment's silence. 'I determined to despise you?' said the Earl in an altered tone. 'What nonsense is this?'
  She found to her dismay that tears were rolling down her cheeks. She averted her face, and said in a broken whisper: 'My carriage – Mrs Scattergood – I must go home!'
  Miss Taverner dried her eyes, and said huskily: 'I am sorry you should have the troublesome office of taking me home. I am quite ready. But if only Mrs Scattergood could be fetched –'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last paragraph.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Earl smiled. 'No, I am not offended,' he said. 'I was prepared for worse. I am consoling myself with the reflection that your brother's way of receiving the news cannot be more unflattering to me than my tiger's opinion of it will be to you, my darling!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first paragraph for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  The King obeyed her, watching her as she moved about the kitchen, first setting a place for him at the table, then peeping into her cauldron, or snuffing a candle that had begun to gutter. She smiled comfortably at him when she chanced to meet his eyes, and when Major Carlis and Richard came back into the kitchen with provender from the larder, bade them place all upon the table, and pull off his Majesty's wet shoes and stockings. It was Carlis who performed this office for him. When he saw the condition of the King's feet, he stayed for a moment, looking down at them, his mouth rather grim under his neatly curled moustachios. Dame Joan came up with a basin of warm water, and told him to get up from the floor, for she wished to bathe his Majesty's feet. The Major rose, saying with determined cheerfulness: 'We must find a dry pair of shoes for you, sir.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Wilmot's harassed frown lifted, a little. 'Ah, that was well thought of ! Yes, yes, that should serve! My dear master, the end of this weary pilgrimage is at last in sight! In less than a week now you will stand upon French soil, and know yourself safe.'
  The following day, which was Saturday, September 20th, passed uneventfully, the King whiling away the time by boring holes in some more of Giles Strangways's gold pieces, and enjoying some airy dalliance with Juliana Coningsby, who, to her good aunt's satisfaction, showed herself to be more in love with the adventure she was to take part in than with the King. On Sunday morning, the household was a little disturbed by a visit from a tailor, who lived in the village and owed the greater portion of his livelihood to the Colonel's patronage. He presented himself at an early hour, and seemed to be so anxious that none should spy upon his coming to the manor that Wyndham was put instantly upon his guard. He had the man brought into his private parlour; and after assuring himself that no one was listening at the keyhole, the tailor informed him in conspiratorial accents that he had come to bring him warning.
  The tailor jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 'Last night the zealots were discoursing together, saying as how your honour was hiding persons of quality in your house, and they would come to search the place, and seize them, they having seen the stout gentleman, which is staying privily with your honour, and suspi cioning that he be of the King's party. Which is the reason of my taking the liberty of waiting upon your honour, me not being wishful that any harm should befall you.'
  The coin changed hands, and the tailor, a little abashed, bowed himself out. No sooner had he departed, than the Colonel made haste upstairs to the King's apartment, to tell him what had chanced, and to beg him to use his influence with my lord to induce him to go to Church.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Wilmot's harassed frown lifted, a little. 'Ah, that was well thought of ! Yes, yes, that should serve! My dear master, the end of this weary pilgrimage is at last in sight! In less than a week now you will stand upon French soil, and know yourself safe.'
  The following day, which was Saturday, September 20th, passed uneventfully, the King whiling away the time by boring holes in some more of Giles Strangways's gold pieces, and enjoying some airy dalliance with Juliana Coningsby, who, to her good aunt's satisfaction, showed herself to be more in love with the adventure she was to take part in than with the King. On Sunday morning, the household was a little disturbed by a visit from a tailor, who lived in the village and owed the greater portion of his livelihood to the Colonel's patronage. He presented himself at an early hour, and seemed to be so anxious that none should spy upon his coming to the manor that Wyndham was put instantly upon his guard. He had the man brought into his private parlour; and after assuring himself that no one was listening at the keyhole, the tailor informed him in conspiratorial accents that he had come to bring him warning.
  The tailor jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 'Last night the zealots were discoursing together, saying as how your honour was hiding persons of quality in your house, and they would come to search the place, and seize them, they having seen the stout gentleman, which is staying privily with your honour, and suspi cioning that he be of the King's party. Which is the reason of my taking the liberty of waiting upon your honour, me not being wishful that any harm should befall you.'
  The coin changed hands, and the tailor, a little abashed, bowed himself out.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Francis Mansel then took leave, since his part in the business was done, and he had (he said) little desire to hazard his life unneedfully; and the three other men left the inn, taking Tattersal with them.
  The crew were all sleeping, and Tattersal at once led the King (who seemed inclined to inspect the vessel more thoroughly) down the steep companion-way to a little stuffy cabin that was lit by a lantern hanging from a beam.
  Lord Wilmot looked about him with an expression of patient long-suffering, but the King saw nothing amiss in his surroundings, and said, stretching himself out on the bunk: 'Harry, how long is it since I was upon the sea! Mark me, if I do not sail this barque to France!'
  It did not please my Lord Wilmot, but the King told him that he was a landlubber, and bade him hold his peace.
  The Colonel got up stiffly, and went into the hut, and saddled the horses. When he came out again, only the grey sweep of the horizon met his straining gaze. He mounted Lawrence Hyde's horse, and, leading the others, turned his back to the sea, and rode soberly home to Racton.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first four paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  They showed no enmity towards their stepmother; they did not appear to feel the smallest pang of resentment at her stepping into their mother's shoes. It was some time before she had realised that they had encountered, and taken for granted, too many of Penhallow's mistresses to cavil at a second wife. She had had a horrifying suspicion that they regarded her from the start as just another of Penhallow's women, to be tolerated, but not admitted into their charmed circle. She had pictured them as neglected: she had never imagined that she would find them revelling in neglect, impatient of caresses, tumbling in and out of scrapes, scandalising the countryside, dodging their father's wrath, never happy except when astride plunging horses, the very sight of which terrified her.
  She had never had a chance to mother them. You couldn't mother a young man as old as yourself; or striplings who despised the tenderer emotions; or a wild, wiry little girl who scornfully rescued you from a field full of aggressive-looking bullocks, and thought you a fool for calling a blood-mare 'a pretty horse'. As for Aubrey, and the twins, their creature comforts were administered to them by Martha, and whatever fondness they had for any female was given to her. Her overtures had not been repulsed so much as endured; she had never been able to flatter herself that her marriage to Penhallow had made the smallest difference to any one of them.
  She had tried, of course, to shape herself into the pattern Penhallow desired, even learning to ride under his ruthless instruction. She endured hours of sick terror in the saddle, never achieving mastery over any but the quietest old horse in the stable; and she cried because Penhallow roared with laughter at her; and sometimes wondered why she had married him, and still more why he had married her. She had not enough perception to realise that Penhallow never weighed a question in his impatient mind, never subordinated his body's needs to the counsel of his brain, never troubled to look to the future. He had wanted to possess Faith, and since he could not get her without marrying her, he had married her, leaving the future to providence, or perhaps not even caring for it.
  She had never understood him, probably never would; and although his love-making frightened her sometimes, she was too young and innocent to realise, until the knowledge was forcibly borne in upon her, that she had married an incontinent man who would never be faithful to one woman all his life long. She was shocked beyond measure, and bitterly hurt, when she first discovered that he had a mistress; and might have left him had she not been pregnant at the time. Her son, Clay, was born, and after that there could be no question of leaving Penhallow. But she did not love Penhallow any more. She was sickly all through the months of her pregnancy, nervous, and often peevish. Still living in a world of make-believe, forming her expectations on what she had read between the covers of novels, she imagined that Penhallow would treat her with loving solicitude, waiting on her tenderly, begging her to take care of herself, and certainly pacing the floor in an agony of dread while her child was born. But Rachel Ottery, his first wife, had borne her children without fuss or complication, riding her high-bred horses to within a few weeks of her deliveries, and making no more ado over the whole business than she would have made over the extraction of a tooth. Penhallow, then, had little patience with an ailing, querulous wife, and no more sympathy with her nervous fears than he had with what he thought was her squeamishness. Faith, who believed that the more primitive functions of the human body were 'not nice', and could only be spoken of under a veil of euphemism; who called bitches lady-dogs; and who would certainly tell the twins that God had sent them a dear little baby brother, felt her very soul shrink at Penhallow's crudities. On the day that he jovially informed the Vicar that his wife was breeding, she knew that she had married a brute; and on that day died her youth.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide four more paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'Penhallow grabbed at his wrists, trying to wrench them from his throat'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Penhallow grabbed at his wrists, trying to wrench them from his throat. They struggled together, Penhallow heaving his bulk half across the bed, and dragging Raymond with it, still pressing on his windpipe with his desperate thumbs, and cursing him in a dreadful whisper.
  He was sprawling on top of Penhallow, one knee up on the bed, when the door opened, and Jimmy ran into the room, shouting at him. Jimmy leaped on him from behind, yelling to Reuben to come to his assistance, and managed to jerk back his head. In that instant Penhallow tore the hands from his throat, choking and gasping amongst his tumbled pillows. The table by the bed had been overturned, the papers and fruit on it spilled all over the floor, the glasses smashed, and the decanter was rolling over the carpet, leaving a trail of claret in its wake.
  Reuben came hurrying in as Raymond threw Jimmy violently off, and, taking in the scene in one glance from his quick shrewd eyes, attached himself to Raymond's right arm like a limpet. 'Give over, Master Ray, give over now! You should knaw better than to do like this, and you in your forty! Set down a crum! Lor' jimmery, what's got into un all on a sudden?'
  Raymond sank down and dropped his head between his clenched fists. 'I hope I have!' he said savagely.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She tucked Faith in securely, and went away, reflecting that such an exaggerated display of emotion was typical of a woman like her stepmother; and deciding that, upon the whole, Raymond's suicide was perhaps the best solution that could have been found to an appalling situation.
  This feeling was not shared either by Inspector Logan, or by the Chief Constable. Raymond's death came as a shock to both these gentlemen; and the Chief Constable was inclined to blame the Inspector for having allowed such a thing to have happened.
  The Major shook his head, digging the nib of his pen into the blotter under his hand. 'I shouldn't be surprised. An old devil, Penhallow was. I don't know. Unprofessional, of course, but one can't help feeling that perhaps it's as well it ended as it did.'
  The Inspector could not agree with this. 'I'd have liked to have got to the bottom of it, sir. If it hadn't been for the news of Jimmy the Bastard's arrest, and what he said leaking out, I might have had a chance. But we can't doubt that it was hearing that this Jimmy had something important to disclose which scared Raymond Penhallow into blowing his brains out. Whatever it may have been that he feared Jimmy was going to tell us, he couldn't stand up to. That finished him.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  And it was all because of freckled little Marianne Treen, who was a shocking flirt, when one came to consider the matter dispassionately, and probably didn't care a rap for either of them! One dance each – and only country dances at that! – had she granted them tonight, but she had waltzed twice with Sir Gavin Kilham, and had engaged herself to another town-buck for the quadrille. When one thought of the time one had wasted, trying to fix her interest – yes, wasted was the word! All these summer months, when he and Jack might have been so much better employed, squandered on toadying a chit who had never been anything but a dead bore to either of them!
  The more one thought of it the less vivid grew Marianne's present image, the clearer the memory of a tiresome little girl with freckles, spoiling one's sport by insisting on accompanying one, and then falling into the brook, or complaining that she was tired, or dared not cross a field with cows grazing in it. The idea that he and Jack – Jack! – should stand up to shoot at one another for the sake of Marianne Treen would have been a grand jest if it had not been so tragic. And just suppose that by some quirk of fortune it was not Jack's bullet that found its mark, but his? Why, if that happened he would blow out his own brains, because there would be nothing left in all the world for Jack's friend to do!
  When his thoughts had slid into unquiet dreams he did not know, but he must have dozed a little, for he opened his eyes to find that the moonlight was no longer sliding between the chinks of the blinds, but a disagreeable morning-light instead. His watch informed him that it was after five o'clock, so he sprang out of his tumbled bed in a hurry. By the time he heard stealthy footsteps on the gravel-walk below his window, he was dressed, and he leaned out to tell Harry so. Harry had been about to throw a handful of pebbles up, but he dropped them, and made signs indicating that it was time to be off.
  Tom stole downstairs, and slipped out of the house by a side door. No one was stirring. He and Harry went in silence down the drive to where Harry had left his gig.
  Harry said, unhitching the reins from the gate-post: 'You know, I don't like this above half, old fellow.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'She replied simply: 'Oh, no! I could not afford the prices they charge at the big inns! I am a governess'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She replied simply: 'Oh, no! I could not afford the prices they charge at the big inns! I am a governess.'
  He was nothing loth, and while the man in the moleskin waistcoat read his paper, and the landlord laid the covers on the table, he told her how he had been sent out to Lisbon three years ago, and what it was like there – very well in its way, but a man would rather choose to be at home! – and how an unexpected stroke of good fortune had befallen him, and he was to occupy a superior place in the London house. He didn't know why he should have been chosen, but Miss Gateshead might imagine how he had jumped at the chance!
  Miss Gateshead suggested that the promotion might be a reward for good service, which made Mr Cranbrook blush vividly, and say that he was sure it was no such thing. In haste to change the subject, he enquired after her prospects and destination. Miss Gateshead was the eldest daughter of a curate with a numerous progeny, and she was bound for her first situation. Very eligible, she assured him! A large house, not ten miles from this place; and Mrs Stockton, her employer, had graciously promised to send the gig to the Pelican to fetch her in the morning.
  She seemed to regard this prospect with satisfaction, but Mr Cranbrook had no hesitation in favouring her with his own quite contrary views on such a fate.
  The landlord came in, bearing the leg of mutton, which he set down on a massive sideboard. His wife, a decent-looking, stout woman in a mob-cap, arranged various removes on the table, bobbed a curtsy to Miss Gateshead, and asked if she would care for a glass of porter, or some tea.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Three years later Venetia was still awaiting Conway's return, and Lady Denny had almost ceased to inveigh against his selfishness in leaving the burden of his affairs on her shoulders. No one had been surprised that he had at first found it impossible to return to England, for no doubt everything must have been at sixes and sevens in Belgium and France, and all our regiments sadly depleted after so sanguinary a battle as Waterloo. But as the months slid by, and all the news that was to be had of Conway came in a brief scrawl to his sister assuring her that he had every confidence in her ability to do just as she ought at Undershaw, and would write to her again when he had more time to devote to the task, it began to be generally felt that his continued absence arose less from a sense of duty than from reluctance to abandon a life that seemed (from accounts gleaned from visitors to the Army of Occupation) to consist largely of cricket-matches and balls. When last heard of, Conway had had the good fortune to be appointed to Lord Hill's staff, and was stationed at Cambray. He had been unable to write at much length to Venetia because the Great Man was expected, and there was to be a Review, followed by a dinner-party, which meant that the staff was kept busy. He knew she would understand exactly how it was, and he remained her affectionate brother Conway. P.S. I don't know which field you mean – you had best do what Powick thinks right.
  But here the conversation took an abrupt turn, Sir John's evil genius prompting him to exclaim that he hoped such a fine-looking girl had more sense than to look twice at the silliest puppy in the county. As he added a rider to the effect that it was high time his wife stopped encouraging Oswald to make a cake of himself with his play-acting ways, Venetia was forgotten in a pretty spirited interchange of conflicting opinions.
  None would have denied that Venetia was a fine-looking girl; most would not have hesitated to call her beautiful. Amongst the pick of the débutantes at Almack's she must have attracted attention; in the more restricted society in which she dwelt she was a nonpareil. It was not only the size and brilliance of her eyes which excited admiration, or the glory of her shining guinea-gold hair, or even the enchanting arch of her pretty mouth: there was something very taking in her face which owed nothing to the excellence of her features: an expression of sweetness, a sparkle of irrepressible fun, an unusually open look, quite devoid of self-consciousness. 
  An internationally bestselling phenomenon and queen of the Regency romance, is one of the most beloved historical novelists of our time. She wrote more than fifty novels, yet her private life was inaccessible to any but her nearest friends and relatives.
  Lavishly illustrated and with access to private papers, correspondence and family archives, this classic biography opens a window into 's world and that of her most memorable characters, revealing a formidable, energetic woman with an impeccable sense of style and, beyond everything, a love for all things Regency.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lavishly illustrated and with access to private papers, correspondence and family archives, this classic biography opens a window into 's world and that of her most memorable characters, revealing a formidable, energetic woman with an impeccable sense of style and, beyond everything, a love for all things Regency.. She wrote more than fifty novels, yet her private life was inaccessible to any but her nearest friends and relatives. 
  An internationally bestselling phenomenon and queen of the Regency romance, is one of the most beloved historical novelists of our time. It was not only the size and brilliance of her eyes which excited admiration, or the glory of her shining guinea-gold hair, or even the enchanting arch of her pretty mouth: there was something very taking in her face which owed nothing to the excellence of her features: an expression of sweetness, a sparkle of irrepressible fun, an unusually open look, quite devoid of self-consciousness. Amongst the pick of the débutantes at Almack's she must have attracted attention; in the more restricted society in which she dwelt she was a nonpareil.
  None would have denied that Venetia was a fine-looking girl; most would not have hesitated to call her beautiful. As he added a rider to the effect that it was high time his wife stopped encouraging Oswald to make a cake of himself with his play-acting ways, Venetia was forgotten in a pretty spirited interchange of conflicting opinions.
  But here the conversation took an abrupt turn, Sir John's evil genius prompting him to exclaim that he hoped such a fine-looking girl had more sense than to look twice at the silliest puppy in the county. I don't know which field you mean – you had best do what Powick thinks right.S. P. He knew she would understand exactly how it was, and he remained her affectionate brother Conway. He had been unable to write at much length to Venetia because the Great Man was expected, and there was to be a Review, followed by a dinner-party, which meant that the staff was kept busy. When last heard of, Conway had had the good fortune to be appointed to Lord Hill's staff, and was stationed at Cambray. But as the months slid by, and all the news that was to be had of Conway came in a brief scrawl to his sister assuring her that he had every confidence in her ability to do just as she ought at Undershaw, and would write to her again when he had more time to devote to the task, it began to be generally felt that his continued absence arose less from a sense of duty than from reluctance to abandon a life that seemed (from accounts gleaned from visitors to the Army of Occupation) to consist largely of cricket-matches and balls. No one had been surprised that he had at first found it impossible to return to England, for no doubt everything must have been at sixes and sevens in Belgium and France, and all our regiments sadly depleted after so sanguinary a battle as Waterloo.Three years later Venetia was still awaiting Conway's return, and Lady Denny had almost ceased to inveigh against his selfishness in leaving the burden of his affairs on her shoulders
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.. Start with the sentence 'Georgette Heyer
  He hunched an impatient shoulder, and replied contemptuously: 'You don't understand, and it's a waste of time to try to make you'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  He hunched an impatient shoulder, and replied contemptuously: 'You don't understand, and it's a waste of time to try to make you.'
  Her eyes twinkled at him. 'But I promise you I do! Yes, and sympathise with her, besides wishing I had her resolution! Though I think I should rather have buried your remains tidily in the garden, my dear!'
  Inured to his habits, his sister made no further attempt to engage his attention. The slice of bread-and-butter, which was all the food he would accept that morning, lay half-eaten on his plate, but to expostulate would be a waste of time, and to venture on an enquiry about the state of his health would serve only to set up his hackles.
  He was a thin boy, rather undersized, by no means ill-looking, but with a countenance sharpened and lined beyond his years. A stranger would have found these hard to compute, his body's immaturity being oddly belied by his face and his manners. In point of fact he had not long entered on his seventeenth year, but physical suffering had dug the lines in his face, and association with none but his seniors, coupled with an intellect at once scholarly and powerful, had made him precocious. A disease of the hip-joint had kept him away from Eton, where his brother Conway, his senior by six years, had been educated, and this (or, as his sister sometimes thought, the various treatments to which he had been subjected) had resulted in a shortening of one leg. When he walked it was with a pronounced and ugly limp; and although the disease was said to have been arrested the joint still pained him in inclement weather, or when he had over-exerted himself. Such sports as his brother delighted in were denied him, but he was a gallant rider, and a fair shot, and only he knew, and Venetia guessed, how bitterly he loathed his infirmity.
  She was nine years his senior, the eldest of the three surviving children of a Yorkshire landowner of long lineage, comfortable fortune, and eccentric habits. The loss of his wife before Aubrey was out of short coats had caused Sir Francis to immure himself in the fastness of his manor, some fifteen miles from York, and to remain there, sublimely indifferent to the welfare of his offspring, abjuring the society of his fellows. Venetia could only suppose that the trend of his nature must always have been towards solitude, for she was quite unable to believe that such extravagant conduct had arisen from a broken heart. Sir Francis had been a man of rigid pride, but never one of sensibility, and that his marriage had been one of unmixed bliss was an amiable fiction his clear-sighted daughter was quite unable to believe. Her memories of her mother were vague, but they included the echoes of bitter quarrels, slammed doors, and painful fits of hysteria. She could remember being admitted to her mother's scented bedchamber to see her dressed for a ball at Castle Howard; she could remember a beautiful discontented face; a welter of expensive dresses; a French maid; but not one recollection could she summon up of maternal concern or affection. It was certain that Lady Lanyon had not shared her husband's love of country life. Every spring had seen the ill-assorted pair in London; early summer took them to Brighton; when they returned to Undershaw it was not long before her ladyship became moped; and when winter closed down on Yorkshire she was unable to support the rigours of the climate, and was off with her reluctant spouse to visit friends. No one could think that such a butterfly's existence suited Sir Francis, yet when a sudden illness had carried her off he had come home a stricken man, unable to bear the sight of her portrait on the wall, or to hear her name mentioned.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'The prayer was not answered, and long before dinner came to an end it must have been apparent to anyone acquainted with Aubrey that he had decided for war'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The prayer was not answered, and long before dinner came to an end it must have been apparent to anyone acquainted with Aubrey that he had decided for war. Upon entering the dining-room, and finding that she was expected to sit at the head of the table, Charlotte had hung back, stammering with instinctive good feeling: 'Oh, pray – ! That is where you are used to sit, Miss Lanyon, is it not? If you please, I would by far rather not take your place!'
  Venetia asked Charlotte if she had enjoyed her visit to Paris. It was the first of the many hasty interventions she felt herself obliged to make during the course of what she afterwards bitterly described as a truly memorable dinner-party, for while Aubrey offered no unprovoked attacks he was swift to avenge any hint of aggression. Since he made it abundantly plain that he had constituted himself his sister's champion, and won every encounter with the foe, Venetia could only suppose that Mrs Scorrier was either very stupid, or compelled by her evil genius to court discomfiture. She really seemed to be incapable of resisting the temptation to depress Venetia's imagined pretensions, so the dining-room rapidly became a battlefield on which (Venetia thought, with an irrepressible gleam of amusement) line inevitably demonstrated its superiority to column. Unable to counter Aubrey's elusive tactics, Mrs Scorrier attempted to give him a heavy set-down. Bringing her determined smile to bear on him she told him that no one would ever take him and Conway for brothers, so unlike were they. What unflattering comparisons she meant to draw remained undisclosed, for Aubrey instantly said, with a touch of anxiety: 'No, I don't think anyone could, do you, ma'am? He has the brawn of the family, I have the brain, and Venetia has the beauty.'
  After this it was scarcely surprising that Mrs Scorrier rose from the table with her temper sadly exacerbated. When she disposed herself in a chair by the drawing-room fire there was a steely look in her eyes which made her daughter quake, but her evident intention of making herself extremely unpleasant was foiled by Venetia's saying that since it behoved her to write two urgent letters she hoped Charlotte would forgive her if she left her until tea-time to the comfort of a quiet evening with only her mama for company. She then left the room, and went to join Aubrey in the library, saying, with deep feeling, as she entered that haven: 'Devil!'
  He grinned at her. 'What odds will you lay me that I don't rid the house of her within a se'ennight?'
  He took it from her, and picked up a small knife from the desk. As he pared the quill he said abruptly: 'Are you writing to tell my aunt and the Dennys that Conway is married?'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She clasped him tightly. 'Stoopid, stoopid! You know I found my worthy suitor a dead bore, and as for the rest, does it not occur to you, love, that if you hadn't run off with that fat woman –'
  Still standing within the circle of Damerel's arm, Venetia choked, and turned her face into his shoulder.
  He limped out, and Damerel strode to the door, and locked it. 'And now, my love,' he said, returning to Venetia, 'for the fourth time...!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She clasped him tightly. 'Stoopid, stoopid! You know I found my worthy suitor a dead bore, and as for the rest, does it not occur to you, love, that if you hadn't run off with that fat woman –'
  Still standing within the circle of Damerel's arm, Venetia choked, and turned her face into his shoulder.
  He limped out, and Damerel strode to the door, and locked it. 'And now, my love,' he said, returning to Venetia, 'for the fourth time...
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first four paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  It was consequently with a slightly heightened colour that she presently rejoined Ravenscar in the Yellow Saloon. Glancing critically at her, he was obliged to admit that she was a magnificent creature. He accompanied her downstairs to the front door, where they were met by Kennet, who came lounging across the hall to see them off.
  Ravenscar and he exchanged a few civilities, and the groom led the grays up to the door. Mr Kennet inspected them with a knowledgeable eye, while Ravenscar gave Miss Grantham his hand to assist her to mount into the curricle, and said that he should back them to beat Filey's pair.
  They were, indeed, beautiful animals, standing a little over fifteen hands, with small heads, broad chests and thighs, powerful quarters, and good, arched necks.
  He got up into the curricle, while the groom still stood to the grays' heads, and spread a rug over Miss Grantham's knees. Taking his whip in his hand, and lightly feeling his horses' mouths, he nodded to the groom. 'I shan't need you,' he said briefly. 'Servant, Mr Kennet!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide three more paragraphs.. End with the sentence '''.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She tugged at the knot. 'I don't mean you the least harm, sir, I assure you. No one will hurt you in this house. Only you will not leave it until those bills are in my hands.'
  He stiffened, his mouth shutting hard. She pulled the last knot undone, and stood up. 'I trust you are more at ease now, sir,' she said kindly. 'But I am persuaded you will not languish for very long in this horrid cellar. So noted a sportsman as Mr Ravenscar will scarcely let it be said of him that he dared not match his famous grays against Sir James Filey's pair! After such
  She flushed, but shrugged her shoulders. 'Calling hard names won't help you, Mr Ravenscar. You stand to lose twenty-five thousand pounds on tomorrow's race.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Mr Ravenscar promptly took her in his arms, and held her so tightly that she was quite unable to break free. After making one half-hearted attempt to do so, and uttering a confused protest, to which he paid no heed at all, she subsided in a very weak way, and cried into his shoulder. Mr Ravenscar endured this with great forbearance for several minutes, but when Miss Grantham made various muffled and wholly unintelligible remarks into his coat, he commanded her to look up. Miss Grantham then gulped in an unromantic manner, sniffed, and groped for her handker chief. Evidently feeling that she was incapable of drying her own cheeks, Mr Ravenscar performed this office for her. After that, he kissed her, and, when she tried to speak, kissed her again, extremely roughly.
  Quite cowed, Miss Grantham submitted, making no attempt to say anything more for an appreciable time. When she did speak again, she had discarded her bonnet, and was sitting with her head on Mr Ravenscar's shoulder, and her hand tucked in his. Notwithstanding these circumstances, she said: 'You cannot possibly marry me! You know you cannot!'
  Deeply pleased by this form of address, Miss Grantham said: 'You have no notion of the money I owe! You are mad even to think of marrying me!'
  Mr Ravenscar's arm tightened about her. 'I shall marry a wench out of a gaming-house with as much pomp and ceremony as I can contrive.'
  Miss Grantham heaved a sigh of satisfaction, and abandoned any further attempt to bring him to a sense of his own folly.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: After making one half-hearted attempt to do so, and uttering a confused protest, to which he paid no heed at all, she subsided in a very weak way, and cried into his shoulder. Mr Ravenscar endured this with great forbearance for several minutes, but when Miss Grantham made various muffled and wholly unintelligible remarks into his coat, he commanded her to look up. Miss Grantham then gulped in an unromantic manner, sniffed, and groped for her handker chief. Evidently feeling that she was incapable of drying her own cheeks, Mr Ravenscar performed this office for her. After that, he kissed her, and, when she tried to speak, kissed her again, extremely roughly.
  Quite cowed, Miss Grantham submitted, making no attempt to say anything more for an appreciable time. When she did speak again, she had discarded her bonnet, and was sitting with her head on Mr Ravenscar's shoulder, and her hand tucked in his. Notwithstanding these circumstances, she said: 'You cannot possibly marry me! You know you cannot!'
  Deeply pleased by this form of address, Miss Grantham said: 'You have no notion of the money I owe! You are mad even to think of marrying me!'
  Mr Ravenscar's arm tightened about her. 'I shall marry a wench out of a gaming-house with as much pomp and ceremony as I can contrive.'
  Miss Grantham heaved a sigh of satisfaction, and abandoned any further attempt to bring him to a sense of his own folly.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  As he hung on to the straps of the curricle behind the Viscount, he observed dispassionately that he knew all along that they wouldn't stay above two days in that ken. Receiving no answer to this remark, he relapsed into silence, breaking it only at the end of a mile to recommend his master to pull in for the corner, unless he was wishful to throw them both out on to their bowsprits. His tone indicated that if the Viscount had any such wish he was prepared cheerfully to endure this fate.
  However, the Viscount, having had time to work off the first heat of his rage, steadied his pair, and took the corner at no more than a canter. The main road to London lay a couple of miles farther on, the lane that led to it from Sheringham Place winding alongside the Viscount's acres for some way, and then curling abruptly away to serve a small hamlet, one or two scattered cottages, and the modest estate owned by Mr Humphrey Bagshot. Mr Bagshot's house was set back from the lane and screened by trees and a shrubbery, the whole being enclosed by a low stone wall. The Viscount, whose attention was pretty equally divided between his horses and his late disappointment, kept his moody gaze fixed on the road ahead, and would not have spared a glance for this wall had not his Tiger suddenly recommended him to cast his daylights to the left.
  The Viscount turned his head, and found that he was sweeping past a lady who was perched on top of the wall, somewhat wistfully regarding him. Recognising this damsel, he reined in, backed his pair, and called out: 'Hallo, brat!'
  Miss Hero Wantage seemed to find nothing amiss in this form of salutation. A little flush mounted to her cheeks; she smiled shyly, and responded: 'Hallo, Sherry!'
  The Viscount looked her over. She was a very young lady, and she did not at this moment appear to advantage. The round gown she wore was of an unbecoming shade of pink and had palpably come to her at second-hand, since it seemed to have been made originally for a larger lady, and had been inexpertly adapted to her diminutive size. A drab cloak was tied round her neck, its hood hanging down over her shoulders; and in her hand she held a crumpled and damp handkerchief. There were tear-stains on her cheeks, and her wide grey eyes were reddened and a little blurred. Her dusky ringlets, escaping from a frayed ribbon, were tumbled and very untidy.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: There was a moment's appalled silence. Everyone stood still, Ferdy goggling at the stranger, and Revesby holding himself tense, his hand clenched on his walking-cane. He looked suddenly pale, but it might have been the uncertain lamplight which made him appear so. His voice broke the silence. 'My good young woman, you are making a mistake,' he said languidly. 'I fancy I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance.'
  A moan burst from the girl. 'Cruel! Cruel!' she uttered. 'Acquaintance! Oh, my God! You shall not cast me off so, you dare not! I will follow you wherever you go! Have you no pity, no compassion? Will you disown your own child? Look! Can you see this innocent, and be unmoved by the ruin you have brought on me?' She opened the shawl as she spoke and disclosed a sleeping infant.
  Sherry, who had been standing transfixed by amazement, pulled himself together. 'Yes, my God!' he said. 'Here, Kitten, into the carriage! Can't be dawdling here all night!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: 'Here, Kitten, into the carriage! Can't be dawdling here all night!'. 'Yes, my God!' he said.
  Sherry, who had been standing transfixed by amazement, pulled himself together. 'Acquaintance! Oh, my God! You shall not cast me off so, you dare not! I will follow you wherever you go! Have you no pity, no compassion? Will you disown your own child? Look! Can you see this innocent, and be unmoved by the ruin you have brought on me?' She opened the shawl as she spoke and disclosed a sleeping infant. 'Cruel! Cruel!' she uttered.'
  A moan burst from the girl. 'I fancy I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance. 'My good young woman, you are making a mistake,' he said languidly. His voice broke the silence. He looked suddenly pale, but it might have been the uncertain lamplight which made him appear so. Everyone stood still, Ferdy goggling at the stranger, and Revesby holding himself tense, his hand clenched on his walking-cane.There was a moment's appalled silence
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lord Wrotham, fastening on the one point in this ingenuous explanation which concerned him, looked round for his quarry, perceived him, and said: 'Ah!'
  Sir Montagu, a perfectly ghastly smile writhing on his lips, said: 'Lady Sheringham mistakes – I can explain – the most lamentable accident – !'
  Mr Ringwood let him go, but not before he had thoughtfully removed the gloves from his suddenly slackened grasp.
  Mr Ringwood, observing his attention to be distracted from Sir Montagu, touched that pallid gentleman on the shoulder, and nodded significantly towards the door. Ferdy, ever helpful, picked up his hat and greatcoat, and silently handed them to him. Sir Montagu clutched them thankfully, and made good his escape.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first two paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  Having dealt as well as he could with this and other vexed questions, Mr Fancot was faced with the task of convincing his parent that to send one of the grooms to Hill Street for the purpose of obtaining from Mrs Dinting, or from Brigg, the hundreds of invitation cards she had forgotten to bring with her to Ravenhurst, and which would be discovered in the second drawer of her desk – or, failing that cache, in one of five other hiding-places – would be very much more costly than to order new ones from a Brighton stationer. He succeeded, but not without difficulty, Lady Denville being a little hurt by his failure to recognize her effort towards economy. It remained only for him to drop a tactful hint in the ear of the steward, to the effect that the scrawled directions received from my lady's bedchamber, while, banked up by lace-edged pillows, she consumed a light breakfast, should be brought to him before being carried out; and to approve the various bills of fare laid before him by Mr Dawlish. That artist, quick to perceive that my lord – doubtless because he contemplated marriage – had reformed his careless habits, lost no time in turning this improvement to good account. No one was more devoted to her ladyship; no one knew better what dishes to set before her to tempt her capricious appetite; no one was more willing to work himself to death in her interests; but (as he informed Mrs Norton, in a moment of condescension) when it came to planning a series of handsome dinners he preferred to lay his proposals before my lord, who, far from turning them topsy-turvy, and demanding game birds that were not in season in place of as tender a pair of turkey poults as anyone could wish for, could be trusted to cast no more than a cursory glance over the bills of fare before signifying his approval of them. However, said Mr Dawlish indulgently, there was no call for Mrs Norton to get into the fidgets: when she had been acquainted with my lady for as long as he had she would know that her starts never lasted above a day or two.
  So, indeed, it proved. By the time the first guests arrived on Tuesday my lady was herself again, her final activity having been to drift through the flower-gardens, holding up a parasol to protect her complexion from the sun, and pointing out to the head gardener the blooms she wished to see in her six new containers. The effect was all that she had been sure it would be, for the gardener was expert in flower-arrangement; and since she watched him at work, several times choosing, and handing to him, a spray from the basket held by one of his satellites, and proffering a number of suggestions, she was convinced, by the end of the morning, that she had filled all the containers herself, with only a little assistance from him.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide four more paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'Evelyn picked up his glass, and held it out'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Evelyn picked up his glass, and held it out. 'I daresay you need it more than I do,' he observed, 'I shouldn't have thrown the total at you like that.'
  Kit smiled, rather abstractedly. He said, after a slight pause: 'Does it ever occur to you that it was a case, rather, of Poor Papa?'
  The word was uttered explosively. Kit glanced up quickly, and saw in Evelyn's eyes an expression of implacable hatred, which startled him. 'Well, don't eat me!' he said lightly. 'I only meant –'
  Evelyn's angry flush had faded, but it surged up again. 'What difference does that make? Are you suggesting that I should permit Mama to remain in debt to him? Or anyone else! Would you be content to turn a blind eye to such obligations?'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lady Denville, emerging unruffled from an overwhelming embrace, dismissed him in the kindest way to his allotted bedchamber, and joined her sons, saying, as she entered the room: 'Poor Bonamy! I am quite shocked to think that I never before realized how much he needs me to take care of him!'
  At that, her own enchanting ripple of laughter bubbled up. 'Oh, poor lamb! As though I could be so inhuman! I should think it would kill him! Tell him that I shan't interfere in any way! I shall, of course, but he will never know it, so you needn't scruple to say that, dearest!'
  It was Evelyn who laughed the most at this, and inevitably, he whose laughter quite suddenly vanished. He said vehemently: 'Don't do it, Mama, don't do it! You can't! You must know you can't!'
  She replied quite seriously: 'That is exactly what I thought myself, when I made up my mind that I would do it! But, do you know, my dear one, the more I think about it the more I believe that I shall positively enjoy being married to Bonamy! That's what I came to tell you, because I know you don't like it, and I haven't been able to snatch a word with either of you since it happened! And suddenly it occurred to me that I shan't be a Dowager after all! You can't think what a relief that is to me!' She drew his handsome head down, and kissed him. 'So now you'll let Fimber take you back to Pinny, my dearest, and you won't worry about anything, because there is nothing more you can worry about! Kit came to the rescue, just as he – just as he –' Her voice cracked, and she turned swiftly to hug her younger son convulsively. 'Oh, my darling!' she said. 'Thank you! I'm not going to say another word, because I should cry if I did, and I look hideous, when I do that! Good night, my precious ones!'
  The twins were left confronting one another. 'You'll grow accustomed to it, Eve,' said Kit, faintly smiling. 'She will enjoy being married to him!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  As Maud showed a tendency to argue the point, and he was already bored by the whole subject, Stephen lounged out of the room, just in time to meet Inspector Hemingway, coming away from the telephone-room. The Inspector's eyes were bright with triumph, a circumstance which Stephen at once noticed. Stephen said: 'You look remarkably pleased with yourself, Inspector. Found a valuable clue?'
  Hemingway's shrewd gaze was fixed on his face. 'You don't pass up many chances of annoying your uncle, do you, sir?'
  Hemingway nodded, as though fully satisfied with this explanation. Stephen turned to go back into the drawingroom, but before he reached the door it opened, and Maud came out.
  Maud seemed quite unresentful of this accusation. She said mildly: 'I'm sure I don't know why he should do that, Stephen.'
  The Inspector watched him go, a thoughtful look in his eyes. As Maud continued her progress towards the stairs, he turned to look at her, saying: 'Very unfortunate the way young Mr Herriard seems to have his knife into your husband, madam. And his uncle so fond of him!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Sergeant hid a smile behind his hand. 'Mrs Herriard been at you again, sir?' he asked sympathetically.
  The Sergeant could not resist this invitation. 'Something that keeps on cropping up, sir? Well, I don't quite like to say.'
  The Sergeant watched him flick over some more pages, run a finger down a column, and then begin to read intently. The expression on his face changed slowly from one of expectant curiosity to one of almost spellbound surprise. The Sergeant hardly knew how to contain his soul in patience, but he knew better than to intrude upon his chief 's absorption, and he waited anxiously for the reading to come to an end.
  At last Hemingway looked up from the volume. He drew a long breath. 'Do you know how this woman was killed?' he said.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He left the house, and a minute later the Sergeant heard the police-car outside start up and drive away.
  It was nearly three hours later when Inspector Hemingway again entered Lexham Manor. He was admitted by Sturry, who said, in a portentous voice, that he was glad to see him.
  In a very few minutes Stephen came into the hall. 'Thank the lord you're back!' he said. 'Joseph's disappeared. We've no idea where he is. Hasn't been seen since he went up to wash his hands before tea.'
  When she saw the Inspector, Maud looked steadily at him, her hands folded in her lap, her face quite expressionless. Mathilda moved instinctively to her side, but when the Inspector told her briefly, but as gently as he could, that her husband was under arrest, she showed no sign of agitation. For a moment she did not speak. Then she said: 'I did not see how Joseph could have done it.'
  Maud rose, rearranging the scarf she wore round her shoulders. A small, tight smile just widened her little mouth. 'I was brought up to believe that one married for better or for worse,' she said. 'I daresay you thought that because I used to be an actress I didn't care about such things. But I have always believed in doing one's duty. Joseph was not unfaithful to me, you see.' She walked across the room to the door. 'I shall not come down to dinner,' she stated. 'It would make you all feel uncomfortable, if I did. Is there anything more you wish to say to me, Inspector?'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It was nearly three hours later when Inspector Hemingway again entered Lexham Manor. He was admitted by Sturry, who said, in a portentous voice, that he was glad to see him.
  In a very few minutes Stephen came into the hall. 'Thank the lord you're back!' he said. 'Joseph's disappeared. We've no idea where he is. Hasn't been seen since he went up to wash his hands before tea.'
  When she saw the Inspector, Maud looked steadily at him, her hands folded in her lap, her face quite expressionless. Mathilda moved instinctively to her side, but when the Inspector told her briefly, but as gently as he could, that her husband was under arrest, she showed no sign of agitation. For a moment she did not speak. Then she said: 'I did not see how Joseph could have done it.'
  Maud rose, rearranging the scarf she wore round her shoulders. A small, tight smile just widened her little mouth. 'I was brought up to believe that one married for better or for worse,' she said. 'I daresay you thought that because I used to be an actress I didn't care about such things. But I have always believed in doing one's duty. Joseph was not unfaithful to me, you see.' She walked across the room to the door. 'I shall not come down to dinner,' she stated. 'It would make you all feel uncomfortable, if I did. Is there anything more you wish to say to me, Inspector?'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  She shook her head, but said, with a valiant attempt to smile: 'Not very happy, sir. But I do try to be, because I know I am very much obliged to Aunt Bugle for – for giving me a home, when she held Papa in the utmost aversion, and had had a terrible quarrel with my mama when Mama eloped with him, and never forgave her. Which makes it my duty to be grateful to her, don't you think?'
  She was gone on the words, as noiseless as a ghost; and the Viscount, having assured himself that the coast was clear, walked calmly down the stairs, and went back into the ballroom.
  Seizing on the excuse offered by her daughter's fear of being driven back to Hazelfield through a thunderstorm, Lady Emborough carried her party off immediately after supper. Lady Bugle was regretful, but since she was even more frightened of lightning than was Emma she fully sympathized with her alarms, and made no effort to delay the departure, prophesying, when she heard that a storm was brewing, that a great many others would also leave early: certainly all those faced with a drive of more than half-an-hour.
  The Redgraves took up Edward and Gilbert in their carriage, and Desford occupied the fourth seat in the Emborough landaulet, sitting beside his uncle, and confronting Lady Emborough and Miss Montsale. For the first few minutes the ladies discussed the ball, but presently Miss Montsale said that although she had been prepared to find that Miss Bugle fell short of the enthusiastic descriptions furnished by Ned and Gil she had no sooner set eyes on her than she felt that they had underrated her beauty rather than exaggerated it. 'Such great, sparkling eyes!' she said. 'Such a lovely complexion, and such glorious hair! Oh, I thought she was one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen! Did not you, Lord Desford?'
  He was not, like his uncle, drowsing, but he was obviously abstracted, and she had to repeat her question to recall him from whatever thoughts were occupying his mind. He said: 'I beg pardon! I wasn't attending! Miss Bugle? Oh, yes, undoubtedly! A dazzling piece of nature!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  She shook her head, but said, with a valiant attempt to smile: 'Not very happy, sir. But I do try to be, because I know I am very much obliged to Aunt Bugle for – for giving me a home, when she held Papa in the utmost aversion, and had had a terrible quarrel with my mama when Mama eloped with him, and never forgave her. Which makes it my duty to be grateful to her, don't you think?'
  She was gone on the words, as noiseless as a ghost; and the Viscount, having assured himself that the coast was clear, walked calmly down the stairs, and went back into the ballroom.
  Seizing on the excuse offered by her daughter's fear of being driven back to Hazelfield through a thunderstorm, Lady Emborough carried her party off immediately after supper. Lady Bugle was regretful, but since she was even more frightened of lightning than was Emma she fully sympathized with her alarms, and made no effort to delay the departure, prophesying, when she heard that a storm was brewing, that a great many others would also leave early: certainly all those faced with a drive of more than half-an-hour.
  The Redgraves took up Edward and Gilbert in their carriage, and Desford occupied the fourth seat in the Emborough landaulet, sitting beside his uncle, and confronting Lady Emborough and Miss Montsale. For the first few minutes the ladies discussed the ball, but presently Miss Montsale said that although she had been prepared to find that Miss Bugle fell short of the enthusiastic descriptions furnished by Ned and Gil she had no sooner set eyes on her than she felt that they had underrated her beauty rather than exaggerated it. 'Such great, sparkling eyes!' she said. 'Such a lovely complexion, and such glorious hair! Oh, I thought she was one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen! Did not you, Lord Desford?'
  He was not, like his uncle, drowsing, but he was obviously abstracted, and she had to repeat her question to recall him from whatever thoughts were occupying his mind.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide two more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Amused, but also a trifle ruffled by this cavalier treatment, Desford was on the verge of telling her that when he had handed her his card he had intended it to be taken to Lord Nettlecombe, not laid on her desk, when it occurred to him that perhaps it would be as well not to give his lordship the opportunity to refuse to see him, so he suppressed the impulse to give this ridiculously uppish creature a set-down, and followed the waiter up the stairs, and along a corridor. The waiter, whose air of profound gloom argued a life of intolerable slavery, but was probably due to the pain of flat feet, stopped outside a door at the end of the corridor, and asked what name he should say, and, upon learning it, opened the door, and repeated it in a raised, indifferent voice.
  This indication that he meant to prolong his visit infuriated Nettlecombe so much that he said, in a kind of scream: 'Don't do that! Go away! Do you want to send me off the hooks? I'm a sick man! Worn to the bone with all the worry and trouble I've had! Burnt to the socket, damn it! I won't have strangers thrust in on me, I tell you!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: This idyll was interrupted by Lady Silverdale, who came into the room, saying in the voice of one who had passed the limits of her endurance: 'I do think, Hetta, that you might have come to tell me – ' She broke off, and exclaimed in scandalized accents: 'Hen-ri-etta!' Then, as Desford looked quickly round, and she perceived who it was who was embracing her daughter, her note changed. 'Desford!' she cried joyfully. 'Oh, my dear, dear boy! Oh, how happy this makes me! Hetta, my darling child! Now I don't care what happens!'
  The lovers then resumed their previous occupation, only to be almost immediately interrupted by Simon, who strolled in, checked on the threshold in surprise at the sight which met his eyes, and burst into a shout of laughter. Reproved in no uncertain terms by his elder brother, he was quite unrepentant. 'Oh, isn't there anything to laugh at!' he said, kissing Hetta's cheek, and painfully wringing the Viscount's hand. 'Here's the pair of you, smelling of April and May ever since I can remember, and it ain't until I put it into your heads that it occurs to either of you to stop huffling and get spliced! Well, I told you you didn't know how nacky my best was, Des, but you know now!'
  He then took his leave of them, declining an invitation to join the dinner-party on the score of its being imperative that he should be in London before it became too dark to see his way. 'I'm off to Brighton in the morning,' he explained. 'But if you should get into any more scrapes, Des, just send me word, and I'll post straight back to rescue you!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first paragraph for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  But when the warmer weather came it brought with it a mild diversion, in the form of two al fresco parties, one being held at Staplewood, and the other at Nutfield Place, the residence of the Dunsters, where Kate was surprised to see Gurney Templecombe. He at once came up to her to ask how she did. 'But no need to ask, Miss Malvern!' he said gallantly. 'I can see you're in high bloom!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Kate, who had already stolen several glances at the portrait, answered: 'I wondered if it was. I wish I had known her.'
  Knowing that his mind had drifted back into the past, Kate remained sympathetically silent. His eyes were still fixed on the portrait, fondly smiling; and Kate, also looking at it, thought that no greater contrast to the first Lady Broome than the second could have been found. Anne had been as fair as Minerva was dark, and nothing in her face, or her languid pose, suggested the vitality which characterized the second Lady Broome. It might have been the fault of the artist, but, although she had a sweet face it lacked decision. She was reasonably pretty, but not beautiful: the sort of woman, Kate thought, one might easily fail to recognize, unless one had been particularly well-acquainted with her. No one who had once met the second Lady Broome could fail to recognize her again.
  She was still gazing at the portrait when she discovered, to her discomfiture, that Sir Timothy had withdrawn his eyes from it, and was watching her instead. 'No,' he said, as though he had read her thought, 'she wasn't like your aunt.'
  He stretched out a frail hand to pick up the decanter, and refilled his glass. 'Your aunt has many good qualities, Kate,' he said, with deliberation, 'but you must not allow her to bullock you.'
  Kate began to speak, but he checked her, with a thin hand upraised, and a shrinking expression in his eyes. 'I don't know what it is that Minerva has in mind, and I don't wish to know,' he said, on a querulous note of old age. 'I'm too old and too tired! I only want to be left in peace!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: That made Kate laugh, and did much to lighten the oppression that weighed down her spirits. When she went down the Great Staircase, she found Pennymore hovering in the hall, with the very evident intention of conducting her into Sir Timothy's room. He smiled benignly upon her, saying that, if she would not think it presumptuous of him, he would venture to make so bold as to say that the sight of her would do Sir Timothy all the good in the world. 'It's a long time since I've seen him take such a fancy to anyone as he has to you, miss, and Tenby says the same. If you'll come this way, you'll find him and Mr Philip waiting for you.'
  He preceded her to Sir Timothy's room, but although he opened the door for her, and bowed her in, a discernment which she recognized as being extremely nice made him forbear to announce her. She went in unheralded, smiled shyly at Philip, who had risen quickly, and had taken two steps forward to meet her, but went past him, to bend over Sir Timothy, softly kissing his cheek.
  He took her hand, and patted it. 'Well, my pretty!' he said fondly.'
  She could not help feeling, as she recalled the events of the day, that this was a masterpiece of understatement, and she replied, rather faintly: 'Yes, sir. It – it has been a little uncomfortable!'
  He went on patting her hand. 'Pennymore has been telling me that he doesn't know what we could have done without you. Thank you, my dear! Your nurse, too! You must bring her to see me tomorrow: she sounds to be a most excellent woman, and I should wish to express my gratitude to her. That's right, Philip! Pull up that little table, and set the glass on it! He and I have been discussing the future, Kate, and although it would make me very happy if you were to make Staplewood your home, you mustn't do so if you feel the least disinclination! I shall go on very well, and I daresay you will come to visit me, so that I shall have that to look forward to.' He glanced across at Philip, with a melancholy smile. 'I know you prefer the house your father built, my boy. Perhaps you will sell Staplewood, when it is yours: I shall be dead, so I shan't know.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about Pour, Madeira, Philip.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: That made Kate laugh, and did much to lighten the oppression that weighed down her spirits. When she went down the Great Staircase, she found Pennymore hovering in the hall, with the very evident intention of conducting her into Sir Timothy's room. He smiled benignly upon her, saying that, if she would not think it presumptuous of him, he would venture to make so bold as to say that the sight of her would do Sir Timothy all the good in the world. 'It's a long time since I've seen him take such a fancy to anyone as he has to you, miss, and Tenby says the same. If you'll come this way, you'll find him and Mr Philip waiting for you. '
  He preceded her to Sir Timothy's room, but although he opened the door for her, and bowed her in, a discernment which she recognized as being extremely nice made him forbear to announce her. She went in unheralded, smiled shyly at Philip, who had risen quickly, and had taken two steps forward to meet her, but went past him, to bend over Sir Timothy, softly kissing his cheek. 
  He took her hand, and patted it. 'Well, my pretty!' he said fondly. 'So here you are! Pour her out a glass of Madeira, Philip! Sit down beside me, my dear! I'm afraid you have had a very uncomfortable day. '
  She could not help feeling, as she recalled the events of the day, that this was a masterpiece of understatement, and she replied, rather faintly: 'Yes, sir. It – it has been a little uncomfortable!'
  He went on patting her hand. 'Pennymore has been telling me that he doesn't know what we could have done without you. Thank you, my dear! Your nurse, too! You must bring her to see me tomorrow: she sounds to be a most excellent woman, and I should wish to express my gratitude to her. That's right, Philip! Pull up that little table, and set the glass on it! He and I have been discussing the future, Kate, and although it would make me very happy if you were to make Staplewood your home, you mustn't do so if you feel the least disinclination! I shall go on very well, and I daresay you will come to visit me, so that I shall have that to look forward to. ' He glanced across at Philip, with a melancholy smile. 'I know you prefer the house your father built, my boy. Perhaps you will sell Staplewood, when it is yours: I shall be dead, so I shan't know. '
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  The Marquis of Alverstoke is too bored and cynical to concern himself with his own sisters, let alone some distant cousins. But the irrepressible Frederica Merrivale has a few surprises in store for him. Frederica brings her younger siblings to London determined to secure a brilliant marriage for her beautiful sister, with or without Alverstoke's help. And with his country cousins getting into one scrape after another right on his doorstep, before he knows it the Marquis finds himself dangerously embroiled.
  When Eleanor Rochdale boards the wrong coach, she ends up not at her prospective employer's home, but at the estate of Eustace Cheviot, a dissipated young man on the verge of death. His cousin, Mr. Ned Carlyon, persuades Eleanor to marry Eustace as a simple business arrangement. By morning, Eleanor is a rich widow, but finds herself embroiled with an international spy ring, housebreakers, uninvited guests, and murder. And Mr. Carlyon won't let her leave...
  Miss Charity Steane is running away from the drudgery of her aunt's household and trying to find her grandfather. When Viscount Desford encounters the lovely waif, he feels honor bound to assist her, but dashing about the countryside alone with an unknown young lady is sure to bring ruin upon her—and him, if he's not careful.
  Miss Judith Taverner and her brother Peregrine are none too pleased when they find that their new guardian, Julian St. John Audley, Earl of Worth, is an insufferably arrogant dandy not much older than themselves. Lord Worth doesn't want the office of guardian any more than they want him. But when someone tries to kill Peregrine, Lord Worth cannot help but entangle himself with his adventuresome wards, leading to witty repartee, surprises, and an unexpected and delightful ending.
  When Max Ravenscar offers her a fortune to refuse his young nephew's proposal of marriage, the beautiful Deborah Grantham is outraged. She may be the mistress of her aunt's elegant gaming house, but Miss Grantham will show the insufferable Mr. Ravenscar that she can't be bribed, even if she has to marry his puppyish nephew to prove it.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Miss Judith Taverner and her brother Peregrine are none too pleased when they find that their new guardian, Julian St. John Audley, Earl of Worth, is an insufferably arrogant dandy not much older than themselves. Lord Worth doesn't want the office of guardian any more than they want him. But when someone tries to kill Peregrine, Lord Worth cannot help but entangle himself with his adventuresome wards, leading to witty repartee, surprises, and an unexpected and delightful ending.
  When Max Ravenscar offers her a fortune to refuse his young nephew's proposal of marriage, the beautiful Deborah Grantham is outraged. She may be the mistress of her aunt's elegant gaming house, but Miss Grantham will show the insufferable Mr. Ravenscar that she can't be bribed, even if she has to marry his puppyish nephew to prove it.
  Abigail Wendover, "on the shelf" at 28, is determined to prevent her high-spirited young niece from falling prey to a handsome fortune hunter. The only man who can help her is scandalous Miles Calverleigh, enormously rich from a long sojourn in India, but the black sheep of his family. Miles turns out to be a most provoking creature—with a disconcerting ability to throw Abby into giggles at quite the wrong moment.
  In the early 15th century, the time of real knights in armor, Simon rose from obscurity to become friend to Prince Henry and a bold warrior against France. Known for his silence and uncompromising principles, Simon "the Coldheart" nonetheless had a complex personality and earned the fierce loyalty and admiration of soldiers, kings, and children alike. When Simon was sent to lay siege to Belremy, he engaged the Lady Margaret in a battle of wits and words until she not only surrendered to the English but became his bride. Brilliant period language and Heyer's perfect grasp of the details of daily life make for a fascinating and blood-stirring read.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: In the summer of 1815, Brussels is a whirlwind of parties, balls and soirees, as Napoleon Bonaparte marches down from the north and the Duke of Wellington struggles to cobble together an army to meet the threat. At the center of the glittering social scene is the beautiful, outrageous young widow Lady Barbara Childe. Even her betrothal to the dashing Colonel Charles Audley fails to curb her wild behavior—but as the Battle of Waterloo begins to rage, Lady Barbara discovers where her heart truly lies.
  It's no ordinary morning at the Poplars—the master is found dead in his bed and it turns out that his high blood pressure was not the culprit. From the dotty Zoe Matthews to her wonderfully malicious nephew Randall, every single member of the quarrelsome Matthews family has a motive and none, of course, has an alibi. The suspects maneuver, mislead, quibble and prevaricate as the amiable Detective Inspector Hannasyde sifts through the evidence trying to discover the murderer before the next victim succumbs. Heyer's dialogue is a master class in British wit, sarcasm and the intricacies of life above and below stairs. A truly fiendish plot tests the ingenuity of the quietly resourceful Inspector Hannasyde and leads to a clever and unpredictable conclusion.
  At first glance, it should have been a lovely English country-house weekend party. But it's the guest-list from hell and the host, Sir Arthur Billington-Smith, is an abusive wretch who everyone at the party turns out to have a reason to hate. When he's found in his study stabbed to death, the unhappy guests and estranged family find themselves under the scrutiny of Scotland Yard's cool-headed Inspector Harding. The unlikely cast of characters is sketched with 's usual brilliant wit and insight into human nature. Inspector Harding emerges as an unlikely hero, following red herring after red herring and finding his own happiness in the process.
  In a classic English country-house murder mystery with a twist, it's the butler who's the victim of murder, rather than the murderer. When local barrister Frank Amberley, on his way to visit his aunt and uncle, takes a wrong turn and discovers a murder, on impulse he protects the young woman he meets at the crime scene. In the course of ferreting out the killer, his disdain for the bumbling police adds comic relief, and he displays true brilliance at solving the crime. Heyer uses her attention to detail and masterful characterizations to concoct a crime in which every clue complicates the puzzle, and the police are typically baffled. The conclusion will come as a surprise and delight to Heyer afficionados and general mystery lovers alike.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first four paragraphs for this book.. End with the sentence ' If he is in some trouble – I am pretty well acquainted with him – it would be civil to call upon him!'
  Nothing more was said on the subject, but Beatrix received the impression that the casual piece of information let fall by her husband had arrested Captain Kendal's attention more than had anything else that had been said to him.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  It was not easy to draw him out on his personal affairs, but he was ready enough to talk of military matters, or of any interesting things he had seen on his travels. Beatrix, enquiring about billeting arrangements in Spain, won far more from him than Warren, asking questions about his family, or his ambitions.
  Warren began to talk of something else, but after a few minutes the Captain said abruptly: 'I beg pardon, sir, but can you furnish me with General Summercourt's direction?'
  The Captain coloured slightly. 'Thank you. If he is in some trouble – I am pretty well acquainted with him – it would be civil to call upon him!'
  Nothing more was said on the subject, but Beatrix received the impression that the casual piece of information let fall by her husband had arrested Captain Kendal's attention more than had anything else that had been said to him.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Hildebrand, lying on his stomach at some little distance from them, his fingers writhing amongst his disordered locks as he wrestled with literary composition, vouchsafed only an absent grunt.
  This was not encouraging, nor, when he was brought to attend to what was being said to him, did he return any more satisfactory answer. He recommended her not to be silly, and added that she didn't know what she was talking about.
  Her wish was granted on the following afternoon. Sir Gareth, half asleep under a big apple-tree, with Joseph wholly asleep on his knee, became drowsily aware of a menacing presence, and opened his eyes. They fell upon a sandy-haired, stockily-built young gentleman who was standing a few feet away, grimly surveying him. Contempt and wrath flamed in his blue eyes as they took in the splendour of the frogged dressing-gown, which, since his coats fitted him far too well to be eased on over his heavily bandaged shoulder, Sir Gareth was obliged to wear. Interested, and mildly surprised, Sir Gareth sought his quizzing glass, and through it inspected his unknown visitor.
  Captain Kendal drew an audible breath, and pronounced in a voice of awful and resolute civility: 'Am I correct, sir, in thinking that I address Sir Gareth Ludlow?'
  Captain Kendal appeared to struggle with himself. His fists clenched, and his teeth ground together; he drew another painful breath and said in measured accents: 'I am sorry, sir – damned sorry! – to see that you have your arm in a sling!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last three paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'On a whim, the notorious Duke of Avon rescues a red-haired urchin and makes him his page'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: On a whim, the notorious Duke of Avon rescues a red-haired urchin and makes him his page. But Léon turns out to be the enchanting Léonie, and the cold-hearted Duke is not prepared for the tender emotions she awakens in him.
  One of Heyer's most famous and memorable novels, Devil's Cub features the son of the Duke of Avon and Léonie—Dominic Alistair, a dashing and devilish young nobleman who finally meets his match in a gently bred young lady.
  In 's famous first novel, Jack Carstares, the disgraced Earl of Wyndam, sacrifices his honor for that of his brother but returns to England in time to rescue the beautiful Diana Beauleigh from a notorious highwayman at sword's point.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Georgette Heyer
  She entered these premises with high hopes, and left them in a mood of such black foreboding as made it hard for her to enter into Alice's raptures at all that met her eyes. It had not occurred to Phoebe that it might be too late for her to delete from her forthcoming romance every mention of Count Ugolino's distinctive eyebrows.
  Well, she was pleased. So handsome were they, those three slim volumes, elegantly attired in blue leather, the fore-edges of the pages gilded, and the title enclosed in a scroll! It didn't seem possible that between those opulent covers reposed a story of her weaving. When the volumes were put into her hands she gave an involuntary gasp of delight; but when she opened the first volume at random her eyes fell upon a fatal paragraph.
  Count Ugolino's appearance was extraordinary. His figure was elegant, his bearing graceful, his air that of a well-bred man, and his lineaments very handsome; but the classical regularity of his countenance was marred by a pair of feline orbs, which were sinister in expression. Matilda could not repress a shudder of revulsion.
  Nor could Matilda's creator, hurriedly shutting the volume, and looking imploringly up at Mr Newsham. 'I cannot allow it to be published!'
  She was a little reassured, but when she parted from him it was with the resolve to write immediately to Miss Battery, imploring her to use her influence with her cousin to arrest publication. For his part, having bowed her off the premises, Mr Newsham instantly sought out the junior partner, demanding: 'Didn't you tell me that that cousin of yours is governess in a nobleman's household! Who is he? Mark my words, that chit's his daughter, and we've got a hit!'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The sobs ceased abruptly; Edmund emerged from the blankets, tearstained but joyful. 'Button, Button!' he cried, stretching out his arms. Sir Nugent put the button into his hand.
  There was a moment's silence, while Edmund, staring at this trophy, realised to the full Sir Nugent's perfidy. To blinding disappointment was added just rage. His eyes blazing through his tears he hurled the button from him, and casting himself face downward gave way to his emotions.
  Fortunately, the noise of his lamentations reached Phoebe's ears. She came quickly into the cabin, and upon being assured by Sir Nugent that so far from bullying his son-in-law he had ruined one of his coats to provide him with the button he so insistently demanded said contemptuously: 'I should have thought you must have known better! He means his nurse, of course! For heaven's sake, go away, both of you! There, my dear, come to Phoebe, then! Poor little man!'
  The Lion d'Argent was Calais' most fashionable inn. A parlour and its two best bedchambers had been engaged by Sinderby, the courier hired by Sir Nugent to smooth the furrows from the path of what promised to be a protracted honeymoon. Sinderby had crossed to Calais to be sure of securing accommodation worthy of his wealthy patron, both at the Lion d'Argent and at Abbeville's best hôtel. He had also hired a bonne to wait on Master Edmund; and he returned to Dover to superintend the embarkation of the party, feeling that he had provided for every eventuality.
  He could not like the chariot of Sir Nugent's design but he accepted it; the arrival of my lady without her maid was harder to accept, for he foresaw that he would be expected to produce a first-rate abigail as soon as he landed again in France, which would be impossible. Her ladyship would have to be content with the services of some quite inferior person until she came to Paris, and she did not bear the appearance of a lady easily contented. With the arrival on board the Betsy Anne of Miss Marlow and Mr Orde his spirits sank. Not only did the addition of two more people to the party overset his careful plans, but he could not approve of these unexpected travellers. He speedily came to the conclusion that there was something smoky about them. They had no baggage; and when, on arrival at Calais, he had requested Mr Orde to give into his charge his and Miss Marlow's passports Mr Orde, clapping a hand to his pocket, had uttered an exclamation of dismay. 'Don't say you haven't got the passports!' had cried Miss Marlow. 'Oh, no!' had been Mr Orde's grim response. 'I've got 'em all right and tight! All of 'em!' Upon which Miss Marlow had looked ready to faint. Something very havey-cavey about Miss Marlow and Mr Orde, decided Sinderby.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Something very havey-cavey about Miss Marlow and Mr Orde, decided Sinderby. 'Button, Button!' he cried, stretching out his arms. Sir Nugent put the button into his hand.
  There was a moment's silence, while Edmund, staring at this trophy, realised to the full Sir Nugent's perfidy. To blinding disappointment was added just rage. His eyes blazing through his tears he hurled the button from him, and casting himself face downward gave way to his emotions.
  Fortunately, the noise of his lamentations reached Phoebe's ears. She came quickly into the cabin, and upon being assured by Sir Nugent that so far from bullying his son-in-law he had ruined one of his coats to provide him with the button he so insistently demanded said contemptuously: 'I should have thought you must have known better! He means his nurse, of course! For heaven's sake, go away, both of you! There, my dear, come to Phoebe, then! Poor little man!'
  The Lion d'Argent was Calais' most fashionable inn. A parlour and its two best bedchambers had been engaged by Sinderby, the courier hired by Sir Nugent to smooth the furrows from the path of what promised to be a protracted honeymoon. Sinderby had crossed to Calais to be sure of securing accommodation worthy of his wealthy patron, both at the Lion d'Argent and at Abbeville's best hôtel. He had also hired a bonne to wait on Master Edmund; and he returned to Dover to superintend the embarkation of the party, feeling that he had provided for every eventuality.
  He could not like the chariot of Sir Nugent's design but he accepted it; the arrival of my lady without her maid was harder to accept, for he foresaw that he would be expected to produce a first-rate abigail as soon as he landed again in France, which would be impossible. Her ladyship would have to be content with the services of some quite inferior person until she came to Paris, and she did not bear the appearance of a lady easily contented. With the arrival on board the Betsy Anne of Miss Marlow and Mr Orde his spirits sank. Not only did the addition of two more people to the party overset his careful plans, but he could not approve of these unexpected travellers. He speedily came to the conclusion that there was something smoky about them. They had no baggage; and when, on arrival at Calais, he had requested Mr Orde to give into his charge his and Miss Marlow's passports Mr Orde, clapping a hand to his pocket, had uttered an exclamation of dismay. 'Don't say you haven't got the passports!' had cried Miss Marlow. 'Oh, no!' had been Mr Orde's grim response. 'I've got 'em all right and tight! All of 'em!' Upon which Miss Marlow had looked ready to faint.The sobs ceased abruptly; Edmund emerged from the blankets, tearstained but joyful.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last four paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'Phoebe, realising that he was affording her an example of the methods of getting his own way lately described to her by his mother, eyed him with hostility'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Phoebe, realising that he was affording her an example of the methods of getting his own way lately described to her by his mother, eyed him with hostility. 'So I must remain in your house, I collect, until it shall please your grace to order the carriage to come round?'
  Wholly devoid of chivalry, too, or he would not have done anything so shabby as to smile at her in just that way. What was more, it was clearly unsafe to be left alone with him: his eyes might smile, but they held besides the smile a very disturbing expression.
  It was quite useless to struggle, and probably undignified. Besides, it was a well-known maxim that maniacs must be humoured. So Miss Marlow humoured this dangerous lunatic, putting her arm round his neck, and even going so far as to return his embrace. She then leaned her cheek against his shoulder, and said: 'Oh, Sylvester! Oh, Sylvester!' which appeared to give great satisfaction. 'Sparrow, Sparrow!' said Sylvester, holding her still more tightly.
  Convinced by the great good sense of this reply that the Head of the House of Rayne had recovered his wits, Phoebe heaved a sigh of relief, and offered a further palliative. 'I didn't mean that wicked thing I said to you!'