Repulsive as he was, he was an object to awaken the deepest pity.
Mrs.Taine, looking up from her novel, watched him curiously--without moving or changing her attitude of luxurious repose--without speaking.
Almost, one would have said, a shade of a smile was upon her too perfect features.
When the man--who had dropped weak and exhausted into a chair--could speak, he glared at her in a pitiful rage, and, in his throaty whisper, said with a curse, "You seem to be amused." Still, she did not speak.

A tantalizing smile broke over her face, and she stretched her beautiful body lazily in her chair, as a well-conditioned animal stirs in sleek, physical contentment.
Again, with curses, he said, "I'm glad you so enjoy my company.

To be laughed at, even, is better than your damned indifference." "You misjudge me," she answered in a voice that, low and soft, was still richly colored by the wealth of vitality that found expression in her splendid body.

"I am not at all indifferent to your condition--quite the contrary.

I am intensely interested.