A VISION OF NOBLE THINGS He slept but for an hour or two, and even then with such disturbance of fitful dreams that he could not be said to rest.

At the earliest sound of movements in the house he rose and went out into the morning air.
There had fallen a heavy shower just after sunrise, and the glory of the east was still partly veiled with uncertain clouds.

Heedless of weather-signs, Sidney strode away at a great pace, urged by his ungovernable thoughts.

His state was that miserable one in which a man repeats for the thousandth time something he has said, and torments himself with devising possible and impossible interpretations thereof.
Through the night he had done nothing but imagine what significance Jane might have attached to his words about Clara Hewett.

Why had he spoken of Clara at all?
One moment he understood his reasons, and approved them; the next he was at a loss to account for such needless revival of a miserable story.