They
greeted one another, and Rogers fell shyly to commonplaces, while
wondering what the change exactly was.
But the other was not to be put off. He was bursting with something.
Rogers had never seen him like this before.
'You've stopped work earlier than usual,' he said, providing the
opening. He understood his diffidence, his shyness in speaking of
himself. Long disappointments lay so thinly screened behind his
unfulfilled enthusiasm.
But this time the enthusiasm swept diffidence to the winds. It had
been vitally stirred.
'Early indeed,' he cried. 'I've been working four hours without a
break, man. Why, what do you think?--I woke at sunrise, a thing I
never do, with--with a brilliant idea in my head. Brilliant, I tell
you. By Jove, if only I can carry it out as I see it----!'
'You've begun it already?'
'Been at it since six o'clock, I tell you. It was in me when I woke--
idea, treatment, everything complete, all in a perfect pattern of
Beauty.'
There was a glow upon his face, his hair was untidy; a white muffler
with blue spots was round his neck instead of collar. One end stuck up
against his chin. The safety pin was open.
'By Jove! I am delighted!' Rogers had seen him excited before over a
'brilliant idea,' but the telling of it always left him cold.
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