Hers was the beauty that blooms not for one man alone, but for the multitude; that feeds not on the love of one, but on the admiration of many.

The murmur of the man in the street who turned and stared into her carriage was more than the devotion of her husband.
"A foreign title," answered Paul, "is nothing in England.

I soon found that out at Eton and at Trinity.

It was impossible there.

I dropped it, and I have never taken it up again." "Yes, you old stupid, and you have never taken the place you are entitled to, in consequence." "What place?
May I button that ?" "Thanks." She held out her arm while he, with fingers much too large for such dainty work, buttoned her glove.
"The place in society," she answered.
"Oh; does that matter?
I never thought of it." "Of course it matters," answered the lady, with an astonished little laugh.