" The doctor ran his fingers through his hair, despairingly. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's. ” Ann Veronica could have wept with vexation. “You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. The beach: to get there as quickly as he could, to reach the white man's nadir of abasement and gather the promise of that soothing indifference which comes with the final disintegration of the fibres of conscience. He dropped the key on the counterpane. Then he had gone away. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not.
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