Alice had been amazed at his power of earning; and also, she had seemed little by little to lose her suspicions as to his perfect sanity and truthfulness.

In a word, the dog of fate had slept; and he had taken particular care to let it lie.

He was in that species of sheltered groove which is absolutely essential to the bliss of a shy and nervous artist, however great he may be.
And now this disastrous irruption, this resurrection of the early sins of the real Leek! He was hurt; he was startled; he was furious.

But he was not surprised.

The wonder was that the early sins of Henry Leek had not troubled him long ago.