What she had looked upon as selfishness was only the natural instinct of a man in love with a woman.

He had said that he wanted her to himself, and to want her to himself appeared now to be the most reasonable desire in the world.
Yes, she had acquitted George; but, in acquitting him, it was characteristic of her that she should not have yielded an inch of her ground.

She drew comfort from declaring him innocent, but it was the tragic comfort of one who blesses while she renounces.

George's blamelessness did not alter in the least her determination to cling to her mother.
The afternoon wore on; the soft golden light on the pavement was dappled with shadows; and the wind, blowing over the iron urns in the yard, scattered the withered leaves of portulaca over the grass.

Though the summer still lingered, and flowers were blooming behind the fences along the street, the faint violet haze of autumn was creeping slowly over the sunshine.