And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy.
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