Lord Fordyce found himself dressing in the usual way and with the usual
care, such creatures of habit are we--and yet, two hours earlier, he had
felt that life was over for him. Although he did not know it, Moravia
had been like a strong restorative applied at the right moment, and the
crisis of his agony had gone by. It was not that he was not still
overcome by sorrow, or that moments of complete anguish would not recur,
but the current had been diverted from taking a fatal turn, and
gradually things would mend. The perfect, practical common sense of
Moravia was so good for him. She was not intellectual like Sabine, she
was just a dear, beautiful, kind, ordinary woman, extremely in love with
him, but too truly American ever to lose her head, and now in real
spirits at the prosp
