Sinopsis

CHAPTER I I THINK there are few young men of my age who have a more intense joy in life than I, George Waller, have. There's a phrase used by Lucas Malet which haunts my memory—she speaks in one of her novels of the ''magnificent rage of living." I think this is exactly what one feels on such a morning as this, when every sight and sound is an incitement to live. The air actually sparkles; it seems full of glittering bubbles, of a fine effervescence, which goes to the head like wine. The lake is a deep blue, and this also sparkles with a thousand motes of light. All round rise the fir-clad hills> breathing out fragrance as the hot sun bathes them. Through the orchards, which the hills enclose, runs