‘Here we go again. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. “Someone must have found it and taken good care of it. Mike was showing his territorial instincts, brought out by the fact that he was drunk. We close the chapter.
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