Suppose she was looking and speaking to Thomas Payne in this way or that way; his imagination threw out pictures before him upon which he could not close his eyes.
He saw Thomas Payne's face all glowing with triumph, he saw Charlotte's with the old look that she had worn for him.

Charlotte's caresses had been few and maidenly; they all came into his mind like stings.

He knew just how she would put her tender arm around this other man's neck, how she would lift grave, willing lips to his.

He wished that they had never been for him, for all they seemed worth to him now was this bitter knowledge.

His fancy led him on and on to his own torment.