Elgar was very stiff from his ascent of Vesuvius, and he too found that "the foam of life" had an unpleasant after-taste, suggestive of wrecked fortunes and a dubious future.

Mallard was only a little gruffer than his wonted self.
"I am going on at once to Sorrento," he said, meeting Elgar afterwards in the garden.

"To-morrow I shall cross over the hills to Positano and Amalfi.

Suppose you come with me ?" The other hesitated.
"You mean you are going to walk ?" "No.

I have traps to carry on from the station.