For some time now, Iris had imagined herself an influence in Lashmar's life, had dreamed that her influence might prevail over all other.

In marrying, she had sacrificed herself to an illusory hope; but she was now an experienced woman, able to distinguish the phantasmal from the genuine, and of Lashmar's powers there could be no doubt.

Her own judgment she saw confirmed by that of Lady Ogram.

Sharp would be her pang if the aspiring genius left her aside, passed beyond her with a careless nod.
She half accused him of ingratitude.
"I'm not at all sure," she said, rather coldly, "that you think me capable of rising to the higher plane.

Perhaps trivial details are more suited to my intelligence." Dyce had relieved himself of a slight splenetic oppression, and felt that he was behaving boorishly.