Had the bear pit been empty, they still would have laughed.
On the evening of the thirty-first of May, Endicott had gone to bed with his ticket purchased for America and his last five-pound note to last him until the boat sailed.

He was a miserable young man.

He knew now that he loved Helen Carey in such a way that to put the ocean between them was liable to unseat his courage and his self-control.

In London he could, each night, walk through Carlton House Terrace and, leaning against the iron rails of the Carlton Club, gaze up at her window.
But, once on the other side of the ocean, that tender exercise must be abandoned.

He must even consider her pursued by most attractive guardsmen, diplomats, and belted earls.