The feeling was a singular
one. It partook of the nature of intellectual excitement. He had a
sense of having received carte blanche for the expenditure of his wits.
Bernard liked to feel his intelligence at play; this is, perhaps, the
highest luxury of a clever man. It played at present over the whole
field of Angela Vivian's oddities of conduct--for, since his visit in
the afternoon, Bernard had felt that the spectacle was considerably
enlarged. He had come to feel, also, that poor Gordon's predicament was
by no means an unnatural one. Longueville had begun to take his friend's
dilemma very seriously indeed. The girl was certainly a curious study.
The evening drew to a close and the crowd of Bernard's fellow-loungers
dispersed. The lighted windows of the Kursaal still glittered in
the bosky darkness, and the lamps along the terrace had not been
extinguished; but the great promenade was almost deserted; here and
there only a lingering couple--the red tip of a cigar and the vague
radiance of a light dress--gave animation to the place. But Bernard
sat there still in his tilted chair, beneath his orange-tree; his
imagination had wandered very far and he was awaiting its return to the
fold.
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