" "Cannot?" echoed Jack, a slight smile crossing his features. He told her something about music, the great world outside. . I shall quit it and go abroad. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. She was a schizophrenic, got locked up later in some sort of state mental ward. How dreary it all looks. Ha! ha! ha!" "Jack!" exclaimed Thames, angrily. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. " Darrell's attention was drawn to the latter part of this speech by a slight pressure on his foot. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. I might as well try to build a ladder to heaven.
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