’Whendidyoup-p-partfromhim？’sheasked，hernetherlipstartingoffquiveringsomuchthatitwaslikeatremolo-stopopenedinherspeech。Shelongedtorunawayfromthisdreadfulboreandcryhereyesout。
’Justnow，intheturnpikeroadyonderthere。’
’What！hehasactuallygonepastmygates？’
’Yes。Whenwegottothem——handsomegatestheyare，too，thefinestbitofmodernwrought-ironworkIhaveseen——whenwecametothemwestopped，talkingtherealittlewhile，andthenhewishedmegood-
byeandwenton。Thetruthis，he’salittlebitdepressedjustnow，anddoesn’twanttoseeanybody。He’saverygoodfellow，andawarmfriend，butalittleuncertainandgloomysometimes；hethinkstoomuchofthings。Hispoetryisrathertooeroticandpassionate，youknow，forsometastes；andhehasjustcomeinforaterribleslatingfromthe——Reviewthatwaspublishedyesterday；hesawacopyofitatthestationbyaccident。Perhapsyou’vereadit？’