Hurstwood had come out of his own home that morning feeling muchof the same old annoyance. At his store he had idled, therebeing no need to write. He had come away to this place with thelightness of heart which characterises those who put wearinessbehind. Now, in the shade of this cool, green bush, he lookedabout him with the fancy of the lover. He heard the carts golumbering by upon the neighbouring streets, but they were faroff, and only buzzed upon his ear. The hum of the surroundingcity was faint, the clang of an occasional bell was as music. Helooked and dreamed a new dream of pleasure which concerned hispresent fixed condition not at all. He got back in fancy to theold Hurstwood, who was neither married nor fixed in a solidposition for life. He remembered the light spirit in which heonce looked after the girls--how he had danced, escorted themhome, hung over their gates. He almost wished he was back thereagain--here in this pleasant scene he felt as if he were whollyfree.