Believe me, the woman he condescends upon must, in return for that happy privilege, surrender her whole fate into his hands.

Beneath his deference to our sex he carries an imperious will, and would demand no less." "There _is_ a little bit of that about him, now you mention it," assented the Doctor.
"But let us not cheat--" Miss Marty checked herself suddenly.
"Let us not vex ourselves with any such apprehensions.

He will never marry, I am convinced.

I cannot imagine him in the light of a parent--with offspring, for instance.

Rather, when I see him in his regimentals, or, again, in his mayoral robe and chain--you have noticed how they become him?
--" The Doctor admitted, with a faint sigh, that he had.
"Well, then, he puts me in mind of that--what d'you call it, which the poets tell us is reproduced but once in several hundred years ?" "The blossoming aloe ?" suggested the Doctor.
Miss Marty shook her head.