Morrel was practically floating on air as he raced through the city streets. Mr. Noirtier had summoned him urgently, and he was so excited to find out why that he'd skipped calling a cab entirely, his own legs would get him there faster than any horse could.
Behind him, poor Barrois struggled to keep up. It wasn't a fair race: Morrel was only thirty-one and head-over-heels in love, while Barrois was sixty and dying from the heat and exertion. They were complete opposites in every way, but they shared one thing in common, their devotion to Noirtier, the man who had just sent for Morrel with strict instructions to come immediately.
When they finally reached the house, Morrel wasn't even breathing hard, love really does give you wings, but Barrois was completely exhausted.
