Angel looked round in surprise.
“Losing your nerve?” he asked rudely.
“No,” said the cool young man by his side slowly; “but somehow life seems more precious than it was a week ago.”
“Fiddlesticks!” said Angel. “You’re in love.”
“Perhaps I am,” admitted Jimmy in a surprised tone, as if the idea had never occurred to him before.
Angel looked at his watch.
“Ten o’clock,” he said; “time for all good people to be in bed. Being myself of a vicious disposition, and, moreover, desirous of washing the taste of tragedy out of my mouth, I suggest we walk steadily to a place of refreshment.”
“Angel,” said Jimmy, “I cannot help thinking that you like to hear yourself talk.”
“I love it,” said Angel frankly.