and at the Zoo that day I had seen one of the sea-lions trying to walk on his tail....

Oh, _how_ I laughed! But what made me associate the sea-lion with you and mermaids, I cannot say, but then as poor papa used to say, 'Dreams are funny things'..." David's replies were hardly audible, and to his hostess's pressing entreaties that he would try this dish or not pass that, he did not answer at all.

He felt, indeed, as though the muscles of his throat would not let him swallow and if he opened his mouth wide enough to utter a consecutive speech he would burst out crying.

A great desire--almost unknown to Vivie hitherto--seized him to get away to some lonely spot and cry and cry, give full vent to some unprecedented fit of hysteria.

He could not look at Rossiter though he knew that Michael's eyes were resting on his face, because if he attempted to reply to the earnest gaze by a reassuring smile, the lips would tremble and the tears would fall.
At last when the dessert was reached and the servants--_do_ they never feel telepathically at such moments that some one person seated at the table, crumbling bread, wishes them miles away and loathes their quiet ministrations ?--the servants had withdrawn for a brief respite till they reappeared with coffee, David rose to his feet and stammered out something about not being well--would they order the motor and let him go?
And as he spoke, and tried to speak in a level, "society" voice, his aching eyes saw the electric lamps, the glinting silver, Mrs.Rossiter's pink, foolish face and crisp little flaxen curls, Rossiter's bearded countenance with its honest, concerned look all waltzing round and round in a dizzying whirl.