It was absurd that a man of his great outdoor capacity should be the slave of a temperamental quality, and yet it was so.

It was no good for his father to condemn, or his mother to mourn, he went his own way.
He had seen much of Junia Shale in these years and had grown fond of her, but she was away much with an aunt in the West, and she was sent to boarding-school, and they saw each other only at intervals.

She liked him and showed it, but he was not ready to go farther.

As yet his art was everything to him, and he did not think of marriage.

He was care-free.