" He smiled at her as he smiled at death, cheerfully. 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. "You were a little out of your head. The image did not move. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. And if one were to love some one very much, it’s just so that one would be blindest, just when one wanted most to see. ” He frowned heavily. “Dear John,” she whispered.
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