How far she saw Denham, and how far she confused him with some hero of fiction, it would be hard to say.

Literature had taken possession even of her memories.
She was matching him, presumably, with certain characters in the old novels, for she came out, after a pause, with: "Um--um--Pendennis--Warrington--I could never forgive Laura," she pronounced energetically, "for not marrying George, in spite of everything.

George Eliot did the very same thing; and Lewes was a little frog-faced man, with the manner of a dancing master.

But Warrington, now, had everything in his favor; intellect, passion, romance, distinction, and the connection was a mere piece of undergraduate folly.
Arthur, I confess, has always seemed to me a bit of a fop; I can't imagine how Laura married him.

But you say you're a solicitor, Mr.
Denham.