That which he had begun as a game was now deadly earnest.

And this in itself was tragic.

That comfortable ease of spirit which is the breath of life was taken away; he could think of nothing but her.

Was she one of those women who feed on men's admiration, and give them no return?
Was she only waiting to make her conquest more secure?
These riddles he asked of her face a hundred times, lying awake in the dark.

To George Pendyce, a man of the world, unaccustomed to privation, whose simple creed was "Live and enjoy," there was something terrible about a longing which never left him for a moment, which he could not help any more than he could help eating, the end of which he could not see.