Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. Giles's. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. If he could keep it up—style and calibre of imagination—within a year the name of Taber would become widely known. I could never make you understand. ‘Poor things.
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