His play was nearer at his heart than he had thought; the enthusiasm which seemed to be greeting it had stirred him unwisely.
"Tell me," he said hurriedly, "who all these people in the stalls are." He peeped down between the edge of the curtain and the side wall of the box whilst Hardiman stood up behind him.
"Yes, I will be your man from Cook's," said Hardiman genially.
His heart warmed to the young man both on account of his outburst and of the shame which had followed upon the heels of it.

Few beliefs had survived in Hardiman after forty years of wandering up and down the flowery places of the earth; but one--he had lectured Harry Luttrell upon it on a night at Stockholm--continually gained strength in him.
Youth must beget visions and man must preserve them if great work were to be done; and so easily the visions lost their splendour and their inspiration.

Of all the ways of tarnishing the vision, perhaps talk was the most murderous.

Hillyard possessed them.

Hillyard was ashamed that he had spoken of them.