was the image. Or if it did not precisely show that, it suggested
something or other of that nature which did just as well. There was a
sweet something between them which brought them together and also
kept them apart; it allowed them to go a certain length, while it was
also a reason why they could never, never exceed that distance; and
this was an ideal state for Tommy, who could be most loyal and tender
so long as it was understood that he meant nothing in particular. She
was the right kind of girl, too, and admired him the more (and perhaps
went a step further) because he remained so true to Felicity's memory.

You must not think him calculating and cold-blooded, for nothing could
be less true to the fact. When not engaged, indeed, on his new work,
he might waste some time planning scenes with exquisite ladies, in
which he sparkled or had a hidden sorrow (he cared not which); but
these scenes seldom came to life. He preferred very pretty girls to be
rather stupid (oh, the artistic instinct of the man!), but instead of
keeping them stupid, as he wanted to do, he found himself trying to
improve their minds. They screwed up their noses in the effort.
Meaning to thrill the celebrated beauty who had been specially invited
to meet him, he devoted himself to a plain woman for whose plainness a
sudden pity had mastered him (for, like all true worshippers of beauty
in women, he always showed best in the presence of plain ones). With
the intention of being a gallant knight to Lady I-Won't-Tell-the-Name,
a whim of the moment made him so stiff to her that she ultimately
asked the reason; and such a charmingly sad reason presented itself to
him that she immediately invited him to her riverside party on
Thursday week. He had the conversations and incidents for that party
ready long before the day arrived; he altered them and polished them
as other young gentlemen in the same circumstances overhaul their
boating costumes; but when he joined the party there was among them