Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. Rather a magniloquent term, perhaps, but what else am I to say? One of these is that the most absolutely selfish thing in the world is to give way to depression, to think of one’s troubles at all except of how to overcome them. He rather liked the "sir"; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit.
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