"But what is 'it' ?" "I've never seen anything so physically beautiful, save the statues in the Vatican, in all my life.

If he's not an aristocrat to the finger tips, I'll give up all my work, turn Catholic, and go into a nunnery--which will distress you exceedingly.

And then"-- she waved a plump hand--"and then, as I've mentioned before, he reads the Religio Medici.

The commonplace, vulgar young man of to-day no more reads Sir Thomas Browne than he reads Tertullian or the Upanishads." "He also reads," said the Archdeacon, stuffing his hand into Paul's knapsack, against whose canvas the stiff outline of a book revealed itself--"he also reads"-- he held up a little fat duodecimo--"the Chansons de Beranger." "That proves it," cried Miss Winwood.
"Proves what ?" His blue eyes twinkled.

Having a sense of humour, she laughed and flung her great arm round his frail shoulders.