There was no disputing that, whatever he might think of him as a good fellow, he felt a certain amount of contempt for him as a lover.

He could hoodwink him all right.

Why, if he would just let Carrie see one such little incident as that of Thursday, it would settle the matter.
He ran on in thought, almost exulting, the while he laughed and chatted, and Drouet felt nothing.

He had no power of analysing the glance and the atmosphere of a man like Hurstwood.

He stood and smiled and accepted the invitation while his friend examined him with the eye of a hawk.
The object of this peculiarly involved comedy was not thinking of either.