He would have preferred to remain in the open air, but a summer shower had just begun as he reached the house.

He could not sit still; the bare floor of the large room met his needs.
His mind's eye pictured a face which a few months ago had power to lead him whither it willed, which had in fact led him through strange scenes, as far from the beaten road of a college curriculum as well could be.

It was a face of foreign type, Jewish possibly, most unlike that ideal of womanly charm kept in view by one who seeks peace and the heart's home.
Hubert had entertained no thought of either.

The romance which most young men are content to enjoy in printed pages he had acted out in his life.

He had lived through a glorious madness, as unlike the vulgar oat-sowing of the average young man of wealth as the latest valse on a street-organ is unlike a passionate dream of Chopin.