He made no effort to expel it from his imagination; every hour it was sweeter to forget the facts of life and dream of what might be.
Through this day and that which followed he kept away from home, only returning late at night.

No more news of Beatrice came.

He saw that his father regarded him with looks of curiosity, but only conversation of the wonted kind passed between them.

When Saturday arrived he was no longer in doubt whether to pursue the one faint hope of finding Emily again in Bushey Park; the difficulty was to pass the time till noon, before which it was useless to start.

He was due for the last sitting in the studio at Teddington, but that was an ordeal impossible to go through in his present state of mind.