He quoted Seneca, Aristotle, Marcus Aurelius and the "Iliad." The "address" secured better and longer reviews in the newspapers than had his book.
He had found life a pleasant experience--all the more piquant because of the amazement of innumerable ecstatic friends who clasped their hands and asked awefully: "How _can_ you--a man of your temperament...!" Life might have gone on being pleasant if every man and woman he had met had let him have his own way.

Only there were at least two people with whom Thornton Lyne's millions carried no weight.
It was warm in his limousine, which was electrically heated.

But outside, on that raw April morning, it was bitterly cold, and the shivering little group of women who stood at a respectful distance from the prison gates, drew their shawls tightly about them as errant flakes of snow whirled across the open.

The common was covered with a white powder, and the early flowers looked supremely miserable in their wintry setting.
The prison clock struck eight, and a wicket-gate opened.

A man slouched out, his jacket buttoned up to his neck, his cap pulled over his eyes.