“I hope nothing is wrong. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. Teddy was the hatless young man who had turned Ann Veronica aside from the Avenue two days before. You are not ‘Alcide. Sit down, I command you. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. 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.
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