“Well,” she said. Suddenly she had become afraid. “Of course, I remember now. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. Courtlaw might have been able to give me an idea where to stop. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky.
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