"'There are two parts of me'—yes, he had been moved to go on. 'One is made up of history, the doings, the marriages, the crimes, the follies, the boundless bêtises of other people—especially of their infamous waste of money that might have come to me. Those things are written—literally in rows of volumes, in libraries; are as public as they're abominable. Everybody can get at them, and you've both of you wonderfully looked them in the face. But there's another part, very much smaller doubtless, which, such as it is, represents my single self, the unknown, the unimportant—unimportant save to you—personal quality. About this you've found out nothing." Volume One, Book First, Chapter One, p. 47.

"He had got it, the pitch, and he could keep it now, for all he needed was to have it given him...