Emma had not been a good wife to him; a flighty silly little woman, who had caused him when alive many a night of pain and day of anxiety.
"Poor, poor Emma!" exclaimed the ecclesiastic, casting his eyes towards the chandelier, and passing a white cambric pocket-handkerchief gracefully before them.

No man in London understood the ring business or the pocket-handkerchief business better, or smothered his emotion more beautifully.

"In the gayest moments, in the giddiest throng of fashion, the thoughts of the past will rise; the departed will be among us still.
But this is not the strain wherewith to greet the friend newly arrived on our shores.

How it rejoices me to behold you in old England! How you must have joyed to see Clive!" "D---- the humbug," muttered Barnes, who knew him perfectly well.

"The fellow is always in the pulpit." The incumbent of Lady Whittlesea's chapel smiled and bowed to him.