A string quartet is to a symphony what a delicate water-colour is to an oil-painting....

Oh, I don't care for his playing at all! he has not--what shall I call it ?--_Sehnsucht_.' Rolfe turned at length to look.

A glance showed him a tall, bony young man, with a great deal of disorderly hair, and shaven face; harsh-featured, sensual, utterly lacking refinement.

He inquired of Miss Leach who this might be, and learnt that the man's name was Felix Dymes.
'Isn't he a humbug ?' The young lady was pained and shocked.
'Oh, he is very clever,' she whispered.

'He has composed a most beautiful song--don't you know it?
--"Margot".