John Galsworthy

“ And Dartie thought: 'Women!'
The glow died above the river, the singing ceased; the young moon hid behind a tree, and all was dark. He pressed himself against Irene.
He was not alarmed at the shuddering that ran through the limbs he touched, or at the troubled, scornful look of her eyes. He felt her trying to draw herself away, and smiled.
It must be confessed that the man of the world had drunk quite as much as was good for him.
With thick lips parted under his well-curled moustaches, and his bold eyes aslant upon her, he had the malicious look of a satyr. ”

“ There are moments, too, when in a picture-gallery, a work, noted by the casual spectator as '* * * Titian—remarkably fine,' breaks through the defences of some Forsyte better lunched perhaps than his fellows, and holds him spellbound in a kind of ecstasy. There are things, he feels—there are things here which—well, which are things. Something unreasoning, unreasonable, is upon him; when he tries to define it with the precision of a practical man, it eludes him, slips away, as the glow of the wine he has drunk is slipping away, leaving him cross, and conscious of his liver. ”

“ Bowling smoothly, if dustily, along, in a cloud of their own creation, they would stare fashionably at the antlered heads which the great slow deer raised out of a forest of bracken that promised to autumn lovers such cover as was never seen before. And now and again, as the amorous perfume of chestnut flowers and of fern was drifted too near, one would say to the other: "My dear! What a peculiar scent!" ”