There would be--she would require and had a right to demand--say, a warm half-hour of explanations: he knew the tone for them, and so little did he revolve it apprehensively, that his mind sprang beyond, to the hearing from her mouth of her not intending further to 'guard her rooms.' How quietly the words were spoken! There was a charm in the retrospect of her mouth and manner.

One of the rare women who never pout or attitudinize, she could fling her glove gracefully--one might add, capturingly under every aspect, she was a handsome belligerent.

The words he had to combat pleased his memory.
Some good friend, Lady Arpington probably, had instructed her in the art of dressing to match her colour.
Concerning himself, he made no stipulation, but he reflected on Lord Feltre's likely estimate of her as a bit of a heathen.

And it might be to her advantage, were she and Feltre to have some conversations.
Whatever the faith, a faith should exist, for without the sentiment of religion, a woman, he says, is where she was when she left the gates of Eden.

A man is not much farther.