Unfortunately for his comfort, his vitality resented inaction. With no outlook his restlessness fed on itself, and he waxed irritable, a prey to sudden moods.
He was not a man to live alone. Healthy, impulsive, and full of life, he had nothing of the celibate in his mixed composition.
But a certain fastidiousness held him back from the casual vice of many men, and his hot blood was generally balanced by the finer instincts of his brain.
Nevertheless the man suffered. And, since his memorable visit to the specialist, his imagination had been disturbed, to a degree hardly healthy, by a physical self-consciousness.
It bred in him a profound distrust. It set him apart from other men. It seemed to give him a moral excuse for an irresolute habit of thought.
He had kept the secret to himself, fearing ridicule from his kind and with a shrewd appreciation of its doubtful value in feminine circles.
Once he had nearly confided in Jill, realizing that with the girl sex still lay in abeyance, almost ignored by her clean young soul.
But something had checked him; a feeling perhaps that it led into a further field, impossible to discuss with her, this child who claimed his loyal respect.
And meanwhile Fantine lured him on with the skill of her vast experience.
The drop scene fell amid loud applause, and lights flashed up about the house.