He was certainly a most gentleman-like man, elegant from head to foot; there was not an ungraceful line about him, to his very boots, and the white nails of his slender fingers; even the defects of his figure--the too great length of the neck and slope of the shoulders--increased his likeness to those saintly pictures with which he had been mixed up in her mind the night before.

He was at one extreme pole of the different types of manhood, and that burly doctor who had saved his life at the other: but her Saint Pere alone perfectly combined the two.

There was nobody like him, after all.

Perhaps her wisest plan, as Headley had forgotten his fancy, was to confess all to the Saint Pere (as she usually did her little sins), and get some sort of absolution from him.
However, she must say something in answer-- "Yes, it is a very lovely view; but really I must say one more word about this matter.

I have to thank you, you know, for the good faith which you have kept with me." He looked round, seemingly amused.