He could not rest seated, but paced up and down the room, gesticulating, fervidly eloquent.
"Do play me something, will you, Mrs.Spence ?" he asked at length.

(His cousinship with Eleanor had never been affirmed by intimate association, and he had not the habit of addressing her by the personal name.) "Just for ten minutes; then I'll be off and trouble you no more.
Something to invigorate! A rugged piece!" Eleanor made a choice from Beethoven, and, whilst she played, Elgar leant forward on the back of a chair.

Then he bade them good-bye, his pulse at fever-time.
Half-past ten next morning found him walking hither and thither on the Mergellina, frequently consulting his watch.

He decided at length to approach the house in which his acquaintances dwelt.

Passing through the _portone_, whom should he encounter but Clifford Marsh, known to him only from the casual meeting at Pompeii, not by name.