"She would be happier with him than with me: that's the point."
"Say rather: that's the question. He may not think so. I don't want to flatter you, but I don't think so myself. There is that in Christo not usually associated with the domestic virtues. He and I are bachelors by instinct—natural, unsophisticated beasts, in no sense educated up to the desirable and blessed, but extremely artificial, state of matrimony. You, on the contrary, are a highly trained creature with all your emotions under your own control, and capable of a consistent unselfishness in the affairs of life which is extremely rare in the male animal. No; merely considered as a husband, Christo would not have a look in with you—could hardly expect to get a vote—certainly not mine."
"He might make a better husband for Honor."
"Not for any woman."
"Don't tell him so, if you think it."
"Leave me to do what I deem wise. Like you, I'm solely actuated with a desire to brighten Miss Endicott's life. But you must not dictate my line of action. My judgment is not wont to be at fault."
"I know that very well. This great cause is safe in your hands. Put it first. Put it first, before everything. You can't feel as I do, and as Yeoland must; but you're a man of very wide sympathy—that's to say a man of genius more or less. And you're his first friend—Yeoland's, I mean; so for his sake—and hers——"
"And yours—yes. I shall glory in bringing this matter to an issue—happy for choice, but definite at any rate—if only to prove all your compliments are not vain. Light your pipe and drink, and fill your glass again."
"No more—perfect punch—perfect and very warming to the blood."
"Your punch-maker, like your poet, is born. The hereditary theory of crime, you know."