He had never dreamt that such women existed.
His own views of women were those of the shopkeeping middle class, practical, selfish, or sensual.

But he had been a reader of books; and through Madame de Pastourelles certain sublimities or delicacies of poetry began to seem to him either less fantastic or more real.
All the same:--he was not sure that he liked her, and while one hour he was all restlessness to resume his task, the next it was a relief to be temporarily quit of it.

As for Lord Findon, except for a certain teasing vagueness on the business side of things, he had shown himself a good friend.

Several times since the first variegated evening had Fenwick dined with them, mostly _en famille_.

Lady Findon, indeed, had been away, nursing an invalid father; Madame de Pastourelles filled her place.