He had a curious sense of power, as if he could have said to her, 'Come and kiss me,' and she would have come.

And yet--it was strange--but there seemed another face and form in the room too; and the itch in his nerves, was it for that--or for this?
He jerked his head towards the restaurant and said: "You have some queer customers.

Do you like this life ?" Annette looked up at him for a moment, looked down, and played with her fork.
"No," she said, "I do not like it." 'I've got her,' thought Soames, 'if I want her.

But do I want her ?' She was graceful, she was pretty--very pretty; she was fresh, she had taste of a kind.

His eyes travelled round the little room; but the eyes of his mind went another journey--a half-light, and silvery walls, a satinwood piano, a woman standing against it, reined back as it were from him--a woman with white shoulders that he knew, and dark eyes that he had sought to know, and hair like dull dark amber.