When, by slow and toilsome efforts, he had arrived midway, something obstructed his further progress. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. ” “I hope that you may,” Anna answered enigmatically. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened.
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