Little by little Bill
found that the old feeling began to return. He persevered. By the
end of a quarter of an hour he had almost succeeded in capturing
anew that first fine careless rapture which, six months ago, had
caused him to propose to Claire and walk on air when she accepted
him.
He continued the treatment throughout the day, and by dinner-time
had arranged everything with his conscience in the most satisfactory
manner possible. He loved Claire with a passionate fervour; he
liked Elizabeth very much indeed. He submitted this diagnosis to
conscience, and conscience graciously approved and accepted it.
It was Sunday that day. That helped. There is nothing like Sunday
in a foreign country for helping a man to sentimental thoughts of
the girl he has left behind him elsewhere. And the fact that there
was a full moon clinched it. Bill was enabled to go for an
after-dinner stroll in a condition of almost painful loyalty to Claire.
From time to time, as he walked along the road, he took out the
photograph and did some more gazing. The last occasion on which he
did this was just as he emerged from the shadow of a large tree
that stood by the roadside, and a gush of rich emotion rewarded
him.
'Claire!' he murmured.
An exclamation at his elbow caused him to look up.
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