He convinced her, in less than ten minutes, with the powerful aid of five hundred pounds in banknotes, that he in truth was Priam Farll.
And he waited for her to express an exceeding astonishment and satisfaction.
"Well, of course if you are, you are," she observed simply, regarding him with benevolent, possessive glances across the table.

The fact was that she did not deal in names, she dealt in realities.

He was her reality, and so long as he did not change visibly or actually--so long as he remained he--she did not much mind who he was.

She added, "But I really don't know what you were _dreaming_ of, Henry, to do such a thing!" "Neither do I," he muttered.
Then he disclosed to her the whole chicanery of Mr.Oxford.
"It's a good thing you've ordered those new clothes," she said.
"Why ?" "Because of the trial." "The trial between Oxford and Witt.

What's that got to do with me ?" "They'll make you give evidence." "But I shan't give evidence.