The Sebastian I had once admired and worshipped was beginning to pass from me; in his place I found a very complex and inferior creation.

My idol had feet of clay.

I was loth to acknowledge it.
I stalked along the corridor moodily towards my own room.

As I passed Hilda Wade's door, I saw it half ajar.

She stood a little within, and beckoned me to enter.
I passed in and closed the door behind me.