Cloudless，andpiercedbyonesolitarystar，acopper-greenskygleamedthroughthewindows。Hereadonbyitswanlighttillhecouldreadnomore。Then，afterhisvalethadremindedhimseveraltimesofthelatenessofthehour，hegotup，andgoingintothenextroom，placedthebookonthelittleFlorentinetablethatalwaysstoodathisbedsideandbegantodressfordinner。
Itwasalmostnineo’clockbeforehereachedtheclub，wherehefoundLordHenrysittingalone，inthemorning-room，lookingverymuchbored。
Iamsosorry，Harry，hecried，butreallyitisentirelyyourfault。ThatbookyousentmesofascinatedmethatIforgothowthetimewasgoing。
Yes，Ithoughtyouwouldlikeit，repliedhishost，risingfromhischair。
Ididn’tsayIlikedit，Harry。Isaiditfascinatedme。Thereisagreatdifference。