"It would be rather jolly—making that gift, I mean," said Julian.
"You think so? Since last night."
"I want to talk to you about that, Valentine, d'you blame me?"
"Not a bit."
"Only wonder at me?"
"I don't even say that."
"No; but of course you must wonder at me."
Julian spoke almost wistfully, and as if he wanted Valentine to sweep away the suggestion. Last night they had been comrades. To-day, in the light and in the calm of afternoon, Valentine seemed much more remote, and Julian felt for the first time a sense of degradation. He was uneasily conscious that he might have fallen in Valentine's esteem. But Valentine reassured him.
"I don't wonder at you, either, Julian; I simply envy you, and metaphorically sit at your feet."
"That's absurd."