His affection for her he frittered away with fast girls and abandoned women, strangled it in the foul musk-laden air of disreputable houses, dragged and defiled it in the wine-lees of the Imperial.

In the end he had quite destroyed it, wilfully, wantonly killed it.

As Turner herself had said, she could only be in love with being loved; her affection for him had dwindled as well; at last they had come to be indifferent to each other, she no longer inspired him to be better, and thus he had shaken off this good influence as well.
Public opinion had been a great check upon him, the fear of scandal, the desire to stand well with the world he knew.

Trivial though he felt it to be, the dread of what people would say had to a great extent held Vandover back.

He had a position to maintain, a reputation to keep up in the parlours and at the dinner tables where he was received.