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. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. "Our talking will not bother him. He halted and put out a hand to stop Hilary.
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