"If there were only something worth fighting for, worth believing in! If I could only believe earnestly, or desire passionately--anything!" Just as Corinna had longed for perfection, for something to worship, he found himself longing now for a cause, for any cause, even a lost one, to which he could give himself.

He wanted facts, deeds, certainties.

He was suffocated by shams and insincerities--and phrases.
Then suddenly, this was one of the symptoms of his nervous malady, the reaction swept over him in a wave of energy which receded almost immediately.

If he could only find deliverance from himself and his own subjective processes! If he could only be borne away by the passion he felt and yet could not feel completely! He wanted Patty, he knew, but did he want her enough to justify the effort that he must make to win her?
Would she be worth to him the break with his mother, with his traditions, with his inherited ideals?
He saw her small, slight figure in the dappled sunlight under the budding trees.

He saw her vivid flower-like face, her romantic eyes, and the arch and charming smile with which she watched his approach.