And yet again he murmured, "By God!" Then his hand went to his collar, which he ripped out of the shirt and stuffed into his pocket.

A cold drizzle was falling, but he bared his head to it and unbuttoned his vest, swinging along in splendid unconcern.
He was only dimly aware that it was raining.

He was in an ecstasy, dreaming dreams and reconstructing the scenes just past.
He had met the woman at last--the woman that he had thought little about, not being given to thinking about women, but whom he had expected, in a remote way, he would sometime meet.

He had sat next to her at table.

He had felt her hand in his, he had looked into her eyes and caught a vision of a beautiful spirit;--but no more beautiful than the eyes through which it shone, nor than the flesh that gave it expression and form.