The very earth upon which he walked had undergone some mystic process of transformation; the very streets of London were new to him.

He had known Kensington-gardens from his boyhood; but not those enchanted avenues of beech and elm in which he walked with Charlotte.

In the plainest and most commonplace phraseology, Mr.Hawkehurst had fallen in love.

This penniless adventurer, who at eight-and-twenty years of age was steeped to the lips in the worst experiences of a very indifferent world, found himself all at once hanging upon the words and living upon the looks of an ignorant schoolgirl.
The discovery that he was capable of this tender weakness had an almost overwhelming effect upon Mr.Hawkehurst.He was ashamed of this touch of humanity, this foolish affection which had awakened all that was purest and best in a nature that had been so long abandoned to degrading influences.

For some time he fought resolutely against that which he considered his folly; but the training which had made him the master of many a perplexing position had not given him the mastery over his own inclinations; and when he found that Charlotte's society had become the grand necessity of his life, he abandoned himself to his fate without further resistance.