A new anxiety and eagerness were stirring in him which he resented, which he tried to put down.

He did not wish, he did not intend, if he could help it, to be too much in love with anybody.

He was jealous of his own self-control, and intensely proud of his own strength of will, as he might have been of a musical or artistic gift.

It was his particular gift, and he would not have it weakened.

He had seen men do the most idiotic things for love.