The light streamed from behind dark hills in floods.
As he felt the evening sweet about him, the Gentleman drew a delicious breath.
"The peace of God that passeth all understanding," he murmured, and saluted with languid hand.
III
Blob was coming across the greensward towards them.
He was lolling along, both hands tucked in his waist-band, whistling.
Then he looked up, and saw the limp figure with the dangling legs being carried towards him.
He stopped dead, gaping.
The colour left his cheek; his face puckered like a child's making ready to cry.
That helpless man, borne as he had seen babies borne, flashed a light on his twilight mind. For one swift second he saw, as others see, the pathos of things human. A rumour of the world's tragedy pierced to his remote soul; and the pity of it staggered him.