I had seen her submit before a ball-room, but with the contempt that leads captivity captive.

Seldom have I admired anything more.

It was splendid even to remember, the ready outward obedience, the not less apparent indifference and disdain.
There was a woman whom any man might admire, who had had it in her to be all things to some man! But Bob Evers was not a man at all.

And this--and this--was his widow! Was she one at all?
How could I tell?
Yes, it was Lascelles, the other name in the case, to the best of my recollection.

But had she any right to bear it?
And even supposing they had married, what had happened to the second husband?
Widow or no widow, second marriage or no second marriage, defensible or indefensible, was this the right friend for a lad still fresh from Eton, the only son of his mother, who had sent me in secret to his side?
There was only one answer to the last question, whatever might be said or urged in reply to all the rest.