Would she win the love as well as the pity and the chivalry of Nigel,
which she already had? Would she awaken the flesh of this man as well
as the spirit, and through spirit and flesh would she attain his soul?

And then?

Isaacson's sincerity was sorely tested by his friendship at this period.
Original though he was, and full of the sensitive nature's distaste for
marching with the mob, he was ranged with the mob against Nigel in this
affair of Mrs. Chepstow. Yet Nigel claimed him as an ally, a kindred
spirit. He was not explicit, but in their fugitive intercourse he was
perpetually implying. It was "You and I," and the rest of the world shut
out. Pity was working within him, chivalry was working, the generosity
of his soul, but also its fighting obstinacy. There was something in
Nigel which loved to have its back against the wall. He wanted to put
Isaacson into the same pugnacious position, facing the overwhelming
odds. But the overwhelming odds were on the same side as the Doctor. On
the whole, Isaacson was not sorry that he had so few hours to spare. For
he did not know what to do. Professional secrecy debarred him from
telling Nigel what Mrs. Chepstow had said of herself. What others said
of her would never set Nigel against her, but would always incline him
towards her.

So far Mrs. Chepstow and he were acquaintances. But already the moment
had come when Nigel was beginning to want of her more than mere
acquaintanceship, and, because of this driving want of more, to ask
himself whether he should require less. His knowledge of the world
might, or might not, have told him that with Mrs. Chepstow an
unembarrassed friendship would be difficult. That would have been
theory. Practice already taught him that the difficulty would probably