His mood was still complete recklessness, a revolt against the idea of responsibility, indifference to all beyond the moment.
It was Thursday; the morrow would be Good Friday; after that the intervention of two clear days before the commencement of a new week In the meantime the sun was really shining, and the fresh spring air invited to the open ways.

Waymark closed the door of his room behind him, and went downstairs, whistling to himself.

But, before reaching the bottom, he turned and went back again.

It seemed warm enough to sit in one of the parks and read.

He laid his hand on a book, almost at haphazard, to put in his pocket.