He had met Mrs.Bassett's accusations with evasion and dissimulation, and he had accomplished an escape that was not, in retrospect, wholly creditable.

He hated scenes and tiresome debates as he hated people who cringed and sidled before him.
His manner of dealing with Thatcher had been born of a diabolical humor which he rarely exercised, but which afforded him a delicious satisfaction.

It was the sort of revenge one reserved for a foe capable of appreciating its humor and malignity.

The answer of laughter was one to which he was unused, and he was amazed to find that it had effected an understanding of some vague and intangible kind between him and Sylvia Garrison.

She might not approve of him, he had no idea that she did; but she had struck a chord whose vibrations pleased and tantalized.
She was provocative and, to a degree, mystifying, and the abrupt termination of their talk seemed to leave the way open to other interviews.