She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. During the narration Jack's features lighted up, and an expression, which would have been in vain looked for in repose, was instantly caught and depicted by the skilful artist. But I don’t suppose you can understand. ” It was a long, meandering talk, stupid, shameful, and unavoidable.
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