And Halcyone filled his mind.

He thrilled and thrilled again as he remembered the exquisite joy of their tender embrace--even though it had been no real thing, but a dream, it was still the divinest good his life had yet known.
But what could it lead to if it were real?
Nothing but sorrow and parting and regret.

For his career still mattered to him, he knew, now that he was in his sane senses again, more than anything else in the world.

And he could not burden himself with a poor, uninfluential girl as a wife, even though the joy of it took them both to heaven.
The emotion he was experiencing was one quite new to him, and he almost resented it, because it was upsetting some of his beliefs.
The next day, at breakfast, the Professor remarked that he looked pale.
"You rather overwork, John," he said.

"To lie about the garden here and not have to follow the caprices of fashionable ladies at Wendover, would do you a power of good." There was no sight of Halcyone all the day.