I knew that people would say the same sort of thing about me that they said about all the rest of them.

I couldn't very well protest.

I _had_ been scratching the backs of all sorts of creatures; out of friendship, out of love--for all sorts of reasons.

This was only a sort of last straw--or perhaps it was the sight of her that had been the last straw.

It seemed naively futile to have been wasting my time over Mrs.Hartly and those she stood for, when there was something so different in the world--something so like a current of east wind.
That vein of thought kept me awake, and a worse came to keep it company.
The men from the next room came home--students, I suppose.