They would all have been ready to cushion themselves on her comfortableness.

Was she a lady?
Pish! She was a woman.
Her temperament drew Priam Farll like an electrified magnet.

To wander about freely in that roomy sympathy of hers seemed to him to be the supreme reward of experience.

It seemed like the good inn after the bleak high-road, the oasis after the sandstorm, shade after glare, the dressing after the wound, sleep after insomnia, surcease from unspeakable torture.

He wanted, in a word, to tell her everything, because she would not demand any difficult explanations.