“And what exactly is—It?” asked Maradick.
“Well, sir,” said Punch, “it’s not exactly easy to put it into words, me bein’ no scholar.” He looked at the old woman, but she was intent over her knitting. The light of the sun had faded from the tower and left it cold and grey against the primrose sky. “It’s a kind of Youth; seeing things, you know, all freshly and with a new colour, always caring about things as if you’d met ’em for the first time. It doesn’t come of the asking, and there are places as well as people that ’ave got it. But when a place or a person’s got it, it’s like a match that they go round lighting other people’s candles with.” He waved his arm in a comprehensive sweep. “It’s all here, you know, sir, and Mr. Gale’s got it like that . . . ’e’s lit your candle, so to speak, sir, if it isn’t familiar, and now you’ve got to take the consequences.”
“The consequences?” said Maradick.
“Oh, it’s got its dangers,” said Punch, “specially when you take it suddenly; it’s like a fever, you know. And when it comes to a gentleman of your age of life and settled habits, well, it needs watchin’. Oh, there’s the bad and good of it.”
Maradick stared in front of him.
“Well, sir, I must be going,” said Punch. “Excuse me, but I always must be talking. Good night, sir.”
“Good night,” said Maradick. He watched the square, stumpy figure pass, followed by the dog, across the misty twilight of the market-place. Violet shadows lingered and swept like mysterious creeping figures over the square. He said good night to the old woman and struck up the hill to the hotel.
“Consequence? Good and bad of it?” Anyhow, the man hadn’t expressed it badly. That was his new view, that strange new lightness of vision as though his pack had suddenly been rolled from off his back. He was suddenly enjoying every minute of his life, his candle had been lighted. For a moment there floated across his mind his talk with his wife that afternoon. Well, it could not be helped. If she would not join him he must have his fun alone.
At the top of the hill he met Mrs. Lester. He had seen something of her during the last two days and liked her. She was amusing and vivacious; she had something of Tony’s quality.
“Hullo, Mr. Maradick,” she cried, “hurrying back like me to dinner? Isn’t it wicked the way that we leave the most beautiful anything for our food?”