It seems almost like sacrilege to question the tripartite or trilogical division of mind into “intellect, feeling and will.

Malone at once rang up Lord Roxton, and soon heard the familiar voice.

He's apparently found his place at the monastery.

“I don't mean all of your friends—only a small proportion—which, however, connects your circle with that deadly, idle, brainless bunch—the insolent chatterers at the opera, the gorged dowagers,[…], the jewelled animals whose moral code is the code of the barnyard—!"