He seemed to know it by heart.
At twenty-three he had been elected a delegate, and had entered Parliament at twenty-eight.

It had been a life of hardship, of privation, of constant strain; but she found herself unable to pity him.
It was a tale of strength, of struggle, of victory, that he told her.
Strength! The shaded lamplight fell upon his fearless kindly face with its flashing eyes and its humorous mouth.

He ought to have been drinking out of a horn, not a wine glass that his well-shaped hand could have crushed by a careless pressure.

In a winged helmet and a coat of mail he would have looked so much more fitly dressed than in that soft felt hat and ridiculous blue tie.
She led him to talk on about the future.

She loved to hear his clear, confident voice with its touch of boyish boastfulness.