I pity them both from my heart." "Thou womanest of women!" retorted her husband.

"Art thou, therefore, no saint because thou pitiest them ?" "No, no; but because it was not an unmixed pity." "At any rate, it is an unmixed goodness," said her husband.
The restless glance, the glimmering uncertainty, had faded from his eyes.
He sat quietly on the sofa, swinging his foot, and with his head bent a little to one side over the limp cravat.
"Gerald," said his wife, "let us go out, and walk in the moonlight too.".