It was the deed of a lunatic." "Isn't it rather late to go back on that now?
What's the good ?" "None, you fool, none.

And if there's anything that stamps a man as a cur and a cad, it's this vile habit of slanging the women for his own sins.
All the same--I'm not blaming anybody but myself, mind--all the same, I being what I am, there's no doubt I married the wrong sort of woman.

I don't mind making that confession to you.

I believe you know more about me than anybody, barring my Maker." Stanistreet looked straight in front of him, terribly detached and stern.
"She was not the wrong sort," he said slowly; "but she may have been the wrong woman for you." "Men like you and me, Stanistreet, contrive to get hold of the wrong woman; I don't know why." "You must know that your marriage did nothing for you that was not very well done before." "Yes.

It seems to me that there was a time when I had an immortal soul.