"Now, I wonder whether, when you were in England, you ever saw a play founded on an incident in the life of a once famous actor.

At the time it rather appealed to me.
The hero, with a chivalric purpose assumed various shortcomings he had really no sympathy with--but while there is, of course, no similarity beyond the generous impulse, between the cases--he did not do it clumsily.

It is, however, a trifle difficult to understand what purpose you could have, and one cannot help fancying that you owe a little to Silverdale and yourself." It was a somewhat daring parallel, for Winston, who dare not look at his companion and saw that he had failed, knew the play.
"Isn't the subject a trifle difficult ?" he asked.
"Then," said Maud Barrington, "we will end it.

Still, you promised that I should understand--a good deal--when the time came." Winston nodded gravely.

"You shall," he said.
Then, somewhat to his embarrassment, the two figures moved further across the window, and as they were silhouetted against the blue duskiness, he saw that there was an arm about the waist of the girl's white dress.