I came to ask my young friend what he meant to do.
'Do ?' he cried.

'Why, eat, drink, and be merry! Kauffer has paid up, and his yoke is at the bottom of the sea.

Come back and dine with me!' The hour we spent together in his little inner room before dinner was served stands out among my strangest, loveliest memories of Armour.

He was divinely caught up, and absurd as it is to write, he seemed to carry me with him.

We drank each a glass of vermouth before dinner sitting over a scented fire of deodar branches, while outside the little window in front of me the lifted lines of the great empty Himalayan landscape faded and fell into a blur.