Arnold made the most of his thirty years, spoke with a tone something paternal.

He was wholly sure of himself, knew so well his own mind, his scheme of existence, that Irene's beauty and her charm were nothing more to him than an aesthetic perception.
That she should feel an interest in him, a little awe of him, was to be hoped and enjoyed: he had not the least thought of engaging deeper emotion--would, indeed, have held himself reprobate had such purpose entered his head.

Nor is it natural to an Englishman of this type to imagine that girls may fall in love with him.

Love has such a restricted place in their lives, is so consistently kept out of sight in their familiar converse.

They do not entirely believe in it; it ill accords with their practical philosophy.