I want people to like me, and they don't.

It's partly my appearance, I expect," he continued, "though it's an absolute lie to say I've Jewish blood in me--as a matter of fact we've been in Norfolk, Hirst of Hirstbourne Hall, for three centuries at least.

It must be awfully soothing to be like you--every one liking one at once." "I assure you they don't," Helen laughed.
"They do," said Hirst with conviction.

"In the first place, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen; in the second, you have an exceptionally nice nature." If Hirst had looked at her instead of looking intently at his teacup he would have seen Helen blush, partly with pleasure, partly with an impulse of affection towards the young man who had seemed, and would seem again, so ugly and so limited.

She pitied him, for she suspected that he suffered, and she was interested in him, for many of the things he said seemed to her true; she admired the morality of youth, and yet she felt imprisoned.