Ah, he said, they were sweet, like lavender.
(Already, I told him, he smelled the housekeeper's linen-chest.) But I did not interrupt him much; I couldn't, he was too absorbed.

To temperamental pairing, he declared, the century owed its breed of decadents.

I asked him if he had ever really recognized one; and he retorted that if he hadn't he didn't wish to make a beginning in his own family.

In a quarter of an hour he repudiated the theories of a lifetime, a gratifying triumph for simple elemental goodness.

Having denied the value of the subtler pretensions to charm in woman as you marry her, he went artlessly on to endow Cecily with as many of them as could possibly be desirable.