Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. "Not my king's," returned Wood. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life. He stood transfixed. For a time they were very difficult.
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