Moreen and Ulick. "They're all like that," was
Morgan's comment; "at the very last, just when we think we've landed them
they're back in the deep sea!"
Morgan's comments in these days were more and more free; they even
included a large recognition of the extraordinary tenderness with which
he had been treated while Pemberton was away. Oh yes, they couldn't do
enough to be nice to him, to show him they had him on their mind and make
up for his loss. That was just what made the whole thing so sad and
caused him to rejoice after all in Pemberton's return--he had to keep
thinking of their affection less, had less sense of obligation. Pemberton
laughed out at this last reason, and Morgan blushed and said: "Well, dash
it, you know what I mean." Pemberton knew perfectly what he meant; but
there were a good many things that--dash it too!--it didn't make any
clearer. This episode of his second sojourn in Paris stretched itself
out wearily, with their resumed readings and wanderings and maunderings,
their potterings on the quays, their hauntings of the museums, their
occasional lingerings in the Palais Royal when the first sharp weather
came on and there was a comfort in warm emanations, before Chevet's
wonderful succulent window.
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