“You’d see ’em in a sort of fairy-story light, I fancy,” he went on, “much as infants see ’em, when they’re so damned well-pleased with themselves that they chirp like grasshoppers. It would be nice to see things like that, Solent, don’t you think so? Stripped clear of the mischief of custom? It⁠ ⁠… would⁠ ⁠… be⁠ ⁠… very⁠ ⁠… nice⁠ ⁠… to see⁠ ⁠… anything⁠ ⁠… like that!”

His voice assumed a languid and dreamy tone, full of an infinite weariness.

Wolf found it difficult to make any intelligent comment. His own mind was worrying about many teasing details just then, such as what he was to say to his mother with regard to Mattie and Olwen, and whether he should go to Ramsgard between tea and dinner or wait till later in the evening.

Mr. Urquhart suddenly rose to his feet.