The next days passed, unreal and dreamlike to me. I was happy,
elated, filled with a renewal of youth. Hugo was there, Hugo
was alive, I had found him anew after this long time, and I would
see him again in a few days.
It seemed to me during those ten days that everything was easier
and pleasanter than before. Nothing worried or irritated me;
I lived in a world of my own.
Even Walter noticed a change. Something had come back, I think,
that he had missed.
He said to me, one day:
‘You are happier than you were, Helen . . . .’
And I was pleased and laughed.
‘Yes, Walter,’ I said, ‘I am so happy at seeing Hugo again.’
Walter looked at me queerly, and sighed.
‘You ought to see more of your friends,’ he said, ‘I know that.
It is natural you should miss them.’