VI.
A week later, Philip could lie out on the terrace of his uncle’s garden, sunning himself, and muse somewhat as follows:
“I’m getting the hang ... not a doubt in the world ... last night, now ... her hair is awfully nice when you feel it on your cheek....
“I think I’d better not try poetry ... again ... maybe ... it sounds too well ... too as if I weren’t really feeling deeply....
“Still I’ve got her going mighty well ... last night she said, ‘Maybe, just one before you go’.... I’ve thought of an awfully romantic way to do it....
“Poor Marion.... I wonder if I could really break her heart.... I mean I hope she’ll soon get over it when I’m gone....
“Anyhow I’ll never be afraid of Peggy Armitage again.... I’ve got the hang ... damn it ... got the hang....”