The other things, marvelous though they were, had been more or less like a mirage.
This world of new emotions had spread like a silken mesh over all his thoughts, over all his desires.

Beatrice had been a tangible person, restful, delightful, a real companion, his one resource against this madness.

And now she was gone, and he was powerless to get her back.
He turned his head, he looked up the road along which he had torn that night with his arms around her.

She owed him her life and she had gone! With all a man's inconsequence, it seemed to him as he rose heavily to his feet and started homeward, that she had repaid him with a certain amount of ingratitude, that she had left him at the one moment in his life when he needed her most..