Hurstwood seemed a drag in the direction of honour.

Her feelings were exceedingly creditable, in that they constructed out of these recent developments something which conquered freedom from dishonour.

She had no idea what Hurstwood's next word would be.

She only took his affection to be a fine thing, and appended better, more generous results accordingly.
As yet, Hurstwood had only a thought of pleasure without responsibility.
He did not feel that he was doing anything to complicate his life.

His position was secure, his home-life, if not satisfactory, was at least undisturbed, his personal liberty rather untrammelled.