" "Then it was not a dream!" ejaculated Sir Rowland in a hollow voice, and as if speaking to himself. Then he rallied, smiling a little. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. If you’ve got anything to say, you must say it to your aunt—” “But look here, daddy!” He flapped the Times at her with an imperious gesture.
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