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He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. The truth was impossible, indecent. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. \"Is there something desperately wrong with your house?\" \"There is nothing wrong with our house. John did not see her until the last period. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed.
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