‘I suppose I ought not to say this, but she was a bit keen on me at one time.’
Penelope smiled to herself at the old-fashioned phrase ‘a bit keen on me’. It seemed to make him rather ‘caddish’ in a way that men weren’t nowadays. She took a sip of brandy, wondering what he expected her to say. Then she realised that he was smiling at her indulgently and it suddenly occurred to her that he was one of those men who imagine that all women are running after them. So she had got herself into another of her ludicrous situations.
— An Unsuitable Attachment, chapter fifteen
