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Updated: June 9, 2025
You're young, you know, you're young, and you're hard and fast. Only years can give a mind tone mitigate the varnish of education. I gather from this letter and your face that you are one of the party that participated in that little affair at Lagune's." He stuck out a finger at a point he had just seen. "By-the-bye! That accounts for Ethel," he said. Ethel rapped down the mustard on the table.
Smithers, had he only known it, had been overthrown by a better brain than Lagune's, albeit it spoke through Lagune's treble. Ethel did not like talking of Chaffery and these other things. "If you knew how sweet it was to forget it all," she would say; "to be just us two together for a little while." And, "What good does it do to keep on?" when Lewisham was pressing.
He thought of laughing a low laugh to show he was not afraid. Someone else shuddered too, and he perceived an extraordinarily vivid odour of violets. Lagune's finger communicated a nervous quivering. What was happening? The musical box somewhere on the table began playing a rather trivial, rather plaintive air that was strange to him.
A curious, inconclusive affair, that walk, to which he came nightly full of vague longings, and which ended invariably under an odd shadow of disappointment. It began outside Lagune's most punctually at five, and ended mysteriously at the corner of a side road in Clapham, a road of little yellow houses with sunk basements and tawdry decorations of stone.
He recalled Ethel, sunlit in the avenue, Ethel, white in the moonlight before they parted outside the Frobisher house, Ethel as she would come out of Lagune's house greeting him for their nightly walk, Ethel new wedded, as she came to him through the folding doors radiant in the splendour his emotions threw about her.
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