'The greater world'. It was a phrase that had been in his own mind once or twice since Moxey's visit. To point him thither was doubtless the one service Sidwell could render him. And in a day or two, that phrase was all that remained to him of her letter.
On a Sunday afternoon at the end of October, Godwin once more climbed the familiar stairs at Staple Inn, and was welcomed by his friend Earwaker. The visit was by appointment. Earwaker knew all about the legacy; that it was accepted; and that Peak had only a few days to spend in London, on his way to the Continent.
'You are regenerated,' was his remark as Godwin entered.
'Do I look it? Just what I feel. I have shaken off a good (or a bad) ten years.'
The speaker's face, at all events in this moment, was no longer that of a man at hungry issue with the world. He spoke cheerily.
'It isn't often that fortune does a man such a kind turn. One often hears it said: If only I could begin life again with all the experience I have gained! That is what I can do. I can break utterly with the past, and I have learnt how to live in the future.'
'Break utterly with the past?'
'In the practical sense. And even morally to a great extent.'
Earwaker pushed a box of cigars across the table. Godwin accepted the offer, and began to smoke. During these moments of silence, the man of letters had been turning over a weekly paper, as if in search of some paragraph; a smile announced his discovery.
'Here is something that will interest you—possibly you have seen it.'