That was now a year since, and he had partly outlived the evil;--but some men still remembered that Felix Carbury had been cowed, and had cowered.
It was now his business to marry an heiress.

He was well aware that it was so, and was quite prepared to face his destiny.

But he lacked something in the art of making love.

He was beautiful, had the manners of a gentleman, could talk well, lacked nothing of audacity, and had no feeling of repugnance at declaring a passion which he did not feel.
But he knew so little of the passion, that he could hardly make even a young girl believe that he felt it.

When he talked of love, he not only thought that he was talking nonsense, but showed that he thought so.