But he loved Julian as a saint loves a sinner.

Not that he named Julian sinner, but it was impossible to be with him, observantly, sensitively, and not to feel the thrill of his warm, passionate humanity, which cried aloud for governance, for protection.

Julian could be great, with the greatness only attained by purged humanity, superior surely to the peaceful purity of angels.

But he could be a castaway, oh! as much a castaway as the fainting shipwrecked man whom the hoarse surf rolls to the sad island of a desert sea.
Without Valentine what might he not have been?
And the little doctor let his imagination run loose until his light eyes were dim with absurd tears.

He winked them away as he turned into Regent Street.