He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. I am glad or sorry according as it has brought you happiness. Don’t ask me how. Little by little, she stopped hating him. I have an idea that you are in some sort of trouble. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Nevertheless, she was still fighting.
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