‘Where was I? Oh yes. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea. Fortescue in the drawing-room, and actually shake hands with him in an entirely hopeless manner and hope everything would turn out for the best. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. Then—then we shall be together.
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