The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. John stared palely. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door.
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