She really liked him; his fine figure and his color pleased her eye, and he had a plausible tongue to boot.
As for him, her rustic beauty and health pleased his senses; but, for his heart, she had little place in that.

What he courted her for just now was to keep him informed of all that passed in Huntercombe Hall.
His morbid soul hung about that place, and he listened greedily to Mary Wells's gossip.

He had counted on her volubility; it did not disappoint him.

She never met him without a budget, one-half of it lies or exaggerations.

She was a born liar.