He was longing to meet Evelyn Forbes once more, but a wretched doubt diminished the glow of gratification which the prospect brought.

Should he, or should he not, tell the girl's father of the rather indiscreet admissions she had made during their brief talk that morning?
That minor worry, however, was banished suddenly and forever.

Furneaux, taking the three steps which led from entrance hall to pavement with a flying leap, cannoned right into Forbes, whom he grasped with both hands, quite as much by way of emphasis as to check the impetus of his diminutive body.
"In with you!" he piped.

"Tell your chauffeur to obey my orders, no matter what they are!" Action, determination, were as the breath of the millionaire's nostrils.
He aroused himself instantly.
"You hear, Downs!" he said to the chauffeur.
Downs was one of those strange beings who have been evolved by the age of petrol, an automaton compounded, seemingly, of steel springs and leather.

He had long ago lost the art of speech, having cultivated delicacy of hearing and quickness of sight at the expense of all other human faculties.