"Horrid old thing!" had been Lily's own verdict respecting the frock, even before that day.

But she had hallowed it in his eyes, and he would have been only too happy to have worn a shred of it near his heart, as a talisman.

How wonderful in its nature is that passion of which men speak when they acknowledge to themselves that they are in love.

Of all things, it is, under one condition, the most foul, and under another, the most fair.

As that condition is, a man shows himself either as a beast or as a god! And so we will let poor Johnny Eames ride back to Guestwick, suffering much in that he had loved basely--and suffering much, also, in that he had loved nobly.
Lily, as she had tripped along through the shrubbery, under her lover's arm, looking up, every other moment, into his face, had espied her uncle and Bernard.