And to appear that in the eyes of Aunt Anne, who already regarded mankind in general with pity, would be a mistake.
Now that Maggie was here he might come so often as he pleased.

Many was the dark afternoon through the long February and March months that they sat together in the dim drawing-room, Maggie straining her eyes over an attempted reform of some garment, Mr.Magnus talking in his mild ironical voice with his large moon-like spectacles fixed upon nothing in particular.
Mr.Magnus did all the talking.

Maggie fancied that, all his life, he had persisted in the same gentle humorous fashion without any especial attention as to the wisdom, agreement or even existence of his audience.

She fancied that all men who wrote books did that.

They had to talk to "clear their ideas." She raised her eyes sometimes and looked at him as he sat there.