"I don't know. Not yet, Val, I think," Julian answered. This coffee
seemed to give him life at last. The heavy weariness disappeared from
his face. His eyes gleamed with something of their old youthfulness and
ardour.
"If so, I must be close on happiness," he added.
As he spoke he looked into the hollow eyes of Cuckoo, seeming, strangely,
to seek in them the will-o'-the-wisp of which he spoke.
"Never look for it in unfurnished rooms," Valentine exclaimed with sudden
violence.
This glance of Julian, so the doctor judged, precipitated his curious and
subtle insanity towards an outburst.
"You will find it in the thing that is most definite, not in the thing
that is most indefinite. Isn't it so, doctor? Happiness lies in the
positive, not in the negative."
"Happiness lies in many places. Each finds it in a different house."
"Perhaps you can't tell where I should find it, Val," Julian interposed,
with a certain sturdiness of manner.
"No," said Cuckoo, eagerly.
The coffee, it appeared, had an effect upon her too. There was a life,
a keen intentness in her thin, white face, not visible there before.
Valentine turned round upon her. He was holding his coffee cup in his
right hand. With the other he put his cigarette to his lips.
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