A pity for it flatters us poor mortals to discern instances of the soul's independence of the body.

I would it had been otherwise with Dagworthy; I have but to relate the facts.

It was no dark angel that had whispered to him through the hours of his waiting for Emily's surrender.

High aims, pure ambitions, were stronger in him than they ever had been; stronger than they ever would be again.

It was when Emily left him with those proud words of defiance that the veritable demon took stand at his ear.