Explore "The Incomplete Amorist" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Vernon in those two days decided that he did not wish to see Betty again. She was angry with him, and, though he never for an instant distrusted his power to dissipate the cloud, he felt that the lifting of it would leave him and her in that strong light wherein the frail flower of sentiment must wither and perish. Explications were fatal to the delicate mystery, the ethereal half-lights, that Vernon loved. Above all things he detested the _trop dit_.
Already a mood of much daylight was making him blink and shrink. He saw himself as he was -- or nearly -- and the spectacle did not please him. The thought of Lady St. Craye was the only one that seemed to make for any sort of complacency. The thought of Temple rankled oddly.