She adored good music and she was unaffectedly fond of good-looking boys.
Ronnie went back to the piano and tasted the matured pleasure of a repeated success.

Any measure of nervousness that he may have felt at first had completely passed away.

He was sure of his audience and he played as though they did not exist.

A renewed clamour of excited approval attended the conclusion of his performance.
"It is a triumph, a perfectly glorious triumph," exclaimed the Duchess of Dreyshire, turning to Yeovil, who sat silent among his wife's guests; "isn't it just glorious ?" she demanded, with a heavy insistent intonation of the word.
"Is it ?" said Yeovil.
"Well, isn't it ?" she cried, with a rising inflection, "isn't it just perfectly glorious ?" "I don't know," confessed Yeovil; "you see glory hasn't come very much my way lately." Then, before he exactly realised what he was doing, he raised his voice and quoted loudly for the benefit of half the room: "'Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name, Sounds, not deeds, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame.'" There was a sort of shiver of surprised silence at Yeovil's end of the room.
"Hell!" The word rang out in a strong young voice.
"Hell! And it's true, that's the worst of it.

It's damned true!" Yeovil turned, with some dozen others, to see who was responsible for this vigorously expressed statement.
Tony Luton confronted him, an angry scowl on his face, a blaze in his heavy-lidded eyes.