He knew they could not love her as he did; he knew they could not love her for the reasons he loved her, because the fine and beautiful things in her that he saw and worshipped they did not seek, and so did not find.

And yet, for lack of a few thousand dollars, he must remain silent, must put from him the best that ever came into his life, must waste the wonderful devotion he longed to give, must starve the love that he could never summon for any other woman.
On the thirty-first of May he went to sleep utterly and completely miserable.

On the first of June he woke hopeless and unrefreshed.
And then the miracle came.
Prichard, the ex-butler who valeted all the young gentlemen in the house where Philip had taken chambers, brought him his breakfast.

As he placed the eggs and muffins on the tables to Philip it seemed as though Prichard had said: "I am sorry he is leaving us.

The next gentleman who takes these rooms may not be so open-handed.