For the first time he knew something, the real something, of a woman's heart.

He had never known it before, because he had been so false himself.

He might have been evil and had a conscience too; then he would have been wise.

But he had been evil, and had had no conscience or moral mentor from the beginning; so he had never known anything real in his life.

He thought he had known Christine, but now he saw her in a new light, through the eyes of her sister from whose heart he had gathered a harvest of passion and affection, and had burnt the stubble and seared the soil forever.