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. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing.
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