But you have only beautiful things, and all serve to set off your own beauty." She did not conceal her pleasure at hearing him speak in that way.

She regarded Paul Vence as the only really intelligent man she knew.

She had appreciated him before his books had made him celebrated.

His ill-health, his dark humor, his assiduous labor, separated him from society.

The little bilious man was not very pleasing; yet he attracted her.