He had been attracted, excited, partially, half-willingly enslaved.

He had thought at the time that he loved her, and that supposition had confirmed him in his cheap cynicism about woman.

This, then, was her paltry little court, where man offered mock homage, and where she played at being queen.

Hugh had made the discovery that love was a much overrated passion.

He had always supposed so; but when he tired of Lady Newhaven he was sure of it.