. . . His vanity, terribly starved and cribbed
in his normal existence, now blossomed like a flower. His muddled head was
fairly ravished with delectable pictures. He seemed to be set at a great
height above mundane troubles, and to look down on men like a benignant
God. His soul glowed with a happy warmth.
But somewhere he was devilish cold. His wretched body was beginning to cry
out with discomfort. A loop of his hat was broken and the loose flap was a
conduit for the rain down his back. His old ridingcoat was like a
dish-clout, and he felt icy about the middle. Separate streams of water
entered the tops of his ridingboots--they were a borrowed pair and too big
for him--and his feet were in puddles. It was only by degrees that he
realised this misery. Then in the boggy track his horse began to stumble.
The fourth or fifth peck woke irritation, and he jerked savagely at the
bridle, and struck the beast's dripping flanks with his whip. The result
was a jib and a flounder, and the shock squeezed out the water from his
garments as from a sponge.
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