The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully.
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