He had never been endowed for one day with any deep love, with its keen perceptions and high companionship.
"Well, I suppose I didn't deserve it," he thought, half angrily, while he tried to trample the feeling down and stifle it.

But his keener instincts soon rose up in him and let him know that he did deserve it.
It was very extraordinary that he had not won it--there were few men, indeed, who deserved it half so well.
"But it's too late now," he chose to say to himself, as he drove home.
"It's not in my line either to go philandering after any woman.

Besides, I hate red hair.

The next _Dissolution_ I'll stand for the borough of Wigfield.

Seven children to bring up, and one of them almost as big as myself--what a fool I am! What can I have been thinking of ?" "What are you laughing at, papa ?" said Barbara, who was sitting beside him.
"Not at you, my darling," he replied; "for you are something real." For the next few weeks neither he nor Valentine saw much of Dorothea: excepting at three or four dinners, they scarcely met at all.