Paul was like another man.

None of himself remained--no Clara, no Miriam, no mother that fretted him.

He wrote to them all, and long letters to his mother; but they were jolly letters that made her laugh.

He was having a good time, as young fellows will in a place like Blackpool.

And underneath it all was a shadow for her.
Paul was very gay, excited at the thought of staying with his mother in Sheffield.