It seemed to him in this moment the perfect type of spiritual beauty; the brow so broad and pure, the eyes far-seeing in their maidenly reserve, the lips full, firm, of infinite refinement and sweetness.

He felt abashed before her, as he had never done.

They had stood thus but a moment or two, yet it seemed long to both.

Emily stepped from the wooden threshold on to the grass.
'Somebody wants the "Spectator,"' he said hurriedly.

'I believe I left it here.' 'Yes, it is on the table.' With a perfectly natural impulse, she quickly re-entered the house, to reach the paper she had seen only a minute ago.