Sir John hesitated, and then continued. ‘Me, I am tout à fait stupide. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. ‘But a week and some days,’ answered Valade. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. However, it doesn't much signify. Ruth came to him directly.
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