Here the voices were always raised; they became fervent.

How can he have married her?
How can he, how can he?
It must have been money, of course, but even then! Mrs.Kember's husband was at least ten years younger than she was, and so incredibly handsome that he looked like a mask or a most perfect illustration in an American novel rather than a man.

Black hair, dark blue eyes, red lips, a slow sleepy smile, a fine tennis player, a perfect dancer, and with it all a mystery.

Harry Kember was like a man walking in his sleep.

Men couldn't stand him, they couldn't get a word out of the chap; he ignored his wife just as she ignored him.