This isn’t the place. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. ’ ‘Idiot. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes.
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