Men of intellect, educated in the cult of the beautiful, preserve a certain sense of order even in their worst depravities.

The conception of the beautiful is, so to speak, the axis of their being, round which all their passions revolve.
Over this sadness, the recollection of Constance Landbrooke still floated like a faded perfume.

His love for Conny had been a very delicate affair, for she was a very sweet little creature.

She was like one of Lawrence's creations, with all the dainty feminine graces so dear to that painter of furbelows and laces and velvets, of lustrous eyes and pouting lips, a very re-incarnation of the little Countess of Shaftesbury.

Lively, chattering, never still, lavish of infantile diminutives and silvery peals of laughter, easily moved to sudden caresses and as sudden melancholies and quick bursts of anger, she contributed to her share of love a vast amount of movement, much variety and many caprices.