Gosse took a step or two towards the centre of the room. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter. I did not know what I was saying. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. I must have been very wound up.
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