The young Englishman, invited to a game that he had never yet played, felt in it something sinister and bewildering.
Gropingly, he divined in front of him a future of tyranny on her side, of expected submission on his.

The Northern character in him, with its reserve, its phlegm, its general sanity, began to shrink from the Southern elements in her.

He became aware of the depths in her nature, of things volcanic and primitive, and the English stuff in him recoiled.
So he was to be bitted and bridled, it seemed, in the future.

Daphne Floyd would have bought him with her dollars, and he would have to pay the price.
Something natural and wild in him said No! If he married this girl he would be master, in spite of her money.

He realized vaguely, at any rate, the strength of her will, and the way in which it had been tempered and steeled by circumstance.