manners—
nonsense
,
nonsense
,
nonsense
.
Lynx
hunts
!
Just
ways
of
getting
themselves
mauled
and
clawed
perhaps
—
into
a
state
of
understanding
.
Who
knows
?
...
"
His
voice
became
low
and
clear
.
"
Understanding
spreading
like
a
dawn
...
.
"
Logic
and
language
,
clumsy
implements
,
but
rising
to
our
needs
,
rising
to
our
needs
,
thought
clarified
,
enriched
,
reaching
out
to
every
man
alive
—
some
day
—
presently
—
touching
every
man
alive
,
harmonizing
acts
and
plans
,
drawing
men
into
gigantic
co-operations
,
tremendous
co-operations
...
.
"
Until
man
shall
stand
upon
this
earth
as
upon
a
footstool
and
reach
out
his
hand
among
the
stars
...
.
"
And
then
I
went
into
the
rubber
market
,
and
spent
seven
years
of
my
life
driving
shares
up
and
down
and
into
a
net
!
...
Queer
game
indeed
!
Stupid
ass
Behrens
was
—
at
bottom
...
.
"
There
's
a
flaw
in
it
somewhere
...
.
"
He
came
back
to
that
several
times
before
he
seemed
able
to
go
on
from
it
.
"
There
is
a
collective
mind
,
"
he
said
,
"
a
growing
general
consciousness
—
growing
clearer
.
Something
put
me
away
from
that
,
but
I
know
it
.
My
work
,
my
thinking
,
was
a
part
of
it
.
That
's
why
I
was
so
mad
about
Behrens
.
"
"
Behrens
?
"
"
Of
course
.
He
'd
got
a
twist
,
a
wrong
twist
.
It
makes
me
angry
now
.
It
will
take
years
,
it
will
eat
up
some
brilliant
man
to
clean
up
after
Behrens
—
—
"
"
Yes
,
but
the
point
is
"
—
his
voice
became
acute
—
"
why
did
I
go
making
money
and
let
Behrens
in
?
Why
generally
and
in
all
sorts
of
things
does
Behrens
come
in
?
...
"
He
was
silent
for
a
long
time
,
and
then
he
began
to
answer
himself
.
"
Of
course
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
said
it
—
or
somebody
said
it
—
about
this
collective
mind
being
mixed
with
other
things
.
It
's
something
arising
out
of
life
—
not
the
common
stuff
of
life
.
An
exhalation
...
.
It
's
like
the
little
tongues
of
fire
that
came
at
Pentecost
...
.
Queer
how
one
comes
drifting
back
to
these
images
.
Perhaps
I
shall
die
a
Christian
yet
...
.
The
other
Christians
wo
n't
like
me
if
I
do
.
What
was
I
saying
?
...
It
's
what
I
reach
up
to
,
what
I
desire
shall
pervade
me
,
not
what
I
am
.
Just
as
far
as
I
give
myself
purely
to
knowledge
,
to
making
feeling
and
thought
clear
in
my
mind
and
words
,
to
the
understanding
and
expression
of
the
realities
and
relations
of
life
,
just
so
far
do
I
achieve
Salvation
...
.
Salvation
!
...
"
I
wonder
,
is
Salvation
the
same
for
every
one
?
Perhaps
for
one
man
Salvation
is
research
and
thought
,
and
for
another
expression
in
art
,
and
for
another
nursing
lepers
.
Provided
he
does
it
in
the
spirit
.
He
has
to
do
it
in
the
spirit
...
.
"
There
came
a
silence
as
though
some
difficulty
baffled
him
,
and
he
was
feeling
back
to
get
his
argument
again
.
"
This
flame
that
arises
out
of
life
,
that
redeems
life
from
purposeless
triviality
,
is
n't
life
.
Let
me
get
hold
of
that
.
That
's
a
point
.
That
's
a
very
important
point
.
"
Something
had
come
to
him
.
"
I
've
never
talked
of
this
to
Marjorie
.
I
've
lived
with
her
nine
years
and
more
,
and
never
talked
of
religion
.
Not
once
.
That
's
so
queer
of
us
.
Any
other
couple
in
any
other
time
would
have
talked
religion
no
end
...
.
People
ought
to
.
"
Then
he
stuck
out
an
argumentative
hand
.
"
You
see
,
Marjorie
is
life
,
"
he
said
.
"
She
took
me
.
"
He
spoke
slowly
,
as
though
he
traced
things
carefully
.
"
Before
I
met
her
I
suppose
I
was
n't
half
alive
.
No
!
Yet
I
do
n't
remember
I
felt
particularly
incomplete
.
Women
were
interesting
,
of
course
;
they
excited
me
at
times
,
that
girl
at
Yonkers
!
—
H
'm
.
I
stuck
to
my
work
.
It
was
fine
work
,
I
forget
half
of
it
now
,
the
half-concealed
intimations
I
mean
—
queer
how
one
forgets
!
—
but
I
know
I
felt
my
way
to
wide
,
deep
things
.
It
was
like
exploring
caves
—
monstrous
,
limitless
caves
.
Such
caves
!
...
Very
still
—
underground
.
Wonderful
and
beautiful
...
.
They
're
lying
there
now
for
other
men
to
seek
.
Other
men
will
find
them
...
.
Then
she
came
,
as
though
she
was
taking
possession
.
The
beauty
of
her
,
oh
!
the
life
and
bright
eagerness
,
and
the
incompatibility
!
That
's
the
riddle
!
I
've
loved
her
always
.
When
she
came
to
my
arms
it
seemed
to
me
the
crown
of
life
.
Caves
indeed
!
Old
caves
!
Nothing
else
seemed
to
matter
.
But
something
did
.
All
sorts
of
things
did
.
I
found
that
out
soon
enough
.
And
when
that
first
child
was
born
.
That
for
a
time
was
supreme
...
.
Yes
—
she
's
the
quintessence
of
life
,
the
dear
greed
of
her
,
the
appetite
,
the
clever
appetite
for
things
.
She
grabs
.
She
's
so
damned
clever
!
The
light
in
her
eyes
!
Her
quick
sure
hands
!
...
Only
my
work
was
crowded
out
of
my
life
and
ended
,
and
she
did
n't
seem
to
feel
it
,
she
did
n't
seem
to
mind
it
.
There
was
a
sort
of
disregard
.
Disregard
.
As
though
all
that
did
n't
really
matter
...
.
"
"
My
dear
!
"
whispered
Marjorie
unheeded
.
She
wanted
to
tell
him
it
mattered
now
,
mattered
supremely
,
but
she
knew
he
had
no
ears
for
her
.
His
voice
flattened
.
"
It
's
perplexing
,
"
he
said
.
"
The
two
different
things
.
"
Then
suddenly
he
cried
out
harshly
:
"
I
ought
never
to
have
married
her
—
never
,
never
!
I
had
my
task
.
I
gave
myself
to
her
.
Oh
!
the
high
immensities
,
the
great
and
terrible
things
open
to
the
mind
of
man
!
And
we
breed
children
and
live
in
littered
houses
and
play
with
our
food
and
chatter
,
chatter
,
chatter
.
Oh
,
the
chatter
of
my
life
!
The
folly
!
The
women
with
their
clothes
.
I
can
hear
them
rustle
now
,
whiff
the
scent
of
it
!
The
scandals
—
as
though
the
things
they
did
with
themselves
and
each
other
mattered
a
rap
;
the
little
sham
impromptu
clever
things
,
the
trying
to
keep
young
—
and
underneath
it
all
that
continual
cheating
,
cheating
,
cheating
,
damning
struggle
for
money
!
...
"
Marjorie
,
Marjorie
,
Marjorie
!
Why
is
she
so
good
and
no
better
!
Why
was
n't
she
worth
it
altogether
?
...
"
No
!
I
do
n't
want
to
go
on
with
it
any
more
—
ever
.
I
want
to
go
back
.
"
I
want
my
life
over
again
,
and
to
go
back
.
"
I
want
research
,
and
the
spirit
of
research
that
has
died
in
me
,
and
that
still
,
silent
room
of
mine
again
,
that
room
,
as
quiet
as
a
cell
,
and
the
toil
that
led
to
light
.
Oh
!
the
coming
of
that
light
,
the
uprush
of
discovery
,
the
solemn
joy
as
the
generalization
rises
like
a
sun
upon
the
facts
—
floods
them
with
a
common
meaning
.
That
is
what
I
want
.
That
is
what
I
have
always
wanted
...
.
"
Give
me
my
time
oh
God
!
again
;
I
am
sick
of
this
life
I
have
chosen
.
I
am
sick
of
it
!
This
—
busy
death
!
Give
me
my
time
again
...
.
Why
did
you
make
me
,
and
then
waste
me
like
this
?
Why
are
we
made
for
folly
upon
folly
?
Folly
!
and
brains
made
to
scale
high
heaven
,
smeared
into
the
dust
!
Into
the
dust
,
into
the
dust
.
Dust
!
...
"
He
passed
into
weak
,
wandering
repetitions
of
disconnected
sentences
,
that
died
into
whispers
and
silence
,
and
Marjorie
watched
him
and
listened
to
him
,
and
waited
with
a
noiseless
dexterity
upon
his
every
need
.
One
day
,
she
did
not
know
what
day
,
for
she
had
lost
count
of
the
days
,
Marjorie
set
the
kettle
to
boil
and
opened
the
door
of
the
hut
to
look
out
,
and
the
snow
was
ablaze
with
diamonds
,
and
the
air
was
sweet
and
still
.
It
occurred
to
her
that
it
would
be
well
to
take
Trafford
out
into
that
brief
brightness
.
She
looked
at
him
and
found
his
eyes
upon
the
sunlight
quiet
and
rather
wondering
eyes
.
"
Would
you
like
to
get
out
into
that
?
"
she
asked
abruptly
.
"
Yes
,
"
he
said
,
and
seemed
disposed
to
get
up
.
"
You
've
got
a
broken
leg
,
"
she
cried
,
to
arrest
his
movement
,
and
he
looked
at
her
and
answered
:
"
Of
course
—
I
forgot
.
"
She
was
all
atremble
that
he
should
recognize
her
and
speak
to
her
.
She
pulled
her
rude
old
sledge
alongside
his
bunk
,
and
kissed
him
,
and
showed
him
how
to
shift
and
drop
himself
upon
the
plank
.
She
took
him
in
her
arms
and
lowered
him
.
He
helped
weakly
but
understandingly
,
and
she
wrapped
him
up
warmly
on
the
planks
and
lugged
him
out
and
built
up
a
big
fire
at
his
feet
,
wondering
,
but
as
yet
too
fearful
to
rejoice
,
at
the
change
that
had
come
to
him
.
He
said
no
more
,
but
his
eyes
watched
her
move
about
with
a
kind
of
tired
curiosity
.
He
smiled
for
a
time
at
the
sun
,
and
shut
his
eyes
,
and
still
faintly
smiling
,
lay
still
.
She
had
a
curious
fear
that
if
she
tried
to
talk
to
him
this
new
lucidity
would
vanish
again
.
She
went
about
the
business
of
the
morning
,
glancing
at
him
ever
and
again
,
until
suddenly
the
calm
of
his
upturned
face
smote
her
,
and
she
ran
to
him
and
crouched
down
to
him
between
hope
and
a
terrible
fear
,
and
found
that
he
was
sleeping
,
and
breathing
very
lightly
,
sleeping
with
the
deep
unconsciousness
of
a
child
...
.
When
he
awakened
the
sun
was
red
in
the
west
.
His
eyes
met
hers
,
and
he
seemed
a
little
puzzled
.
"
I
've
been
sleeping
,
Madge
?
"
he
said
.
She
nodded
.
"
And
dreaming
?
I
've
a
vague
sort
of
memory
of
preaching
and
preaching
in
a
kind
of
black
,
empty
place
,
where
there
was
n't
anything
...
.
A
fury
of
exposition
...
a
kind
of
argument
...
.
I
say
!
—
Is
there
such
a
thing
in
the
world
as
a
new-laid
egg
—
and
some
bread-and-butter
?
"
He
seemed
to
reflect
.
"
Of
course
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
broke
my
leg
.
Gollys
!
I
thought
that
beast
was
going
to
claw
my
eyes
out
.
Lucky
,
Madge
,
it
did
n't
get
my
eyes
.
It
was
just
a
chance
it
did
n't
.
"
He
stared
at
her
.
"
I
say
,
"
he
said
,
"
you
've
had
a
pretty
rough
time
!
How
long
has
this
been
going
on
?
"
He
amazed
her
by
rising
himself
on
his
elbow
and
sitting
up
.
"
Your
leg
!
"
she
cried
.
He
put
his
hand
down
and
felt
it
.
"
Pretty
stiff
,
"
he
said
.
"
You
get
me
some
food
—
there
were
some
eggs
,
Madge
,
frozen
new-laid
,
anyhow
—
and
then
we
'll
take
these
splints
off
and
feel
about
a
bit
.
Eh
!
why
not
?
How
did
you
get
me
out
of
that
scrape
,
Madge
?
I
thought
I
'd
got
to
be
froze
as
safe
as
eggs
.
(
Those
eggs
ought
to
be
all
right
,
you
know
.
If
you
put
them
on
in
a
saucepan
and
wait
until
they
boil
.
)
I
've
a
sort
of
muddled
impression
...
.
By
Jove
,
Madge
,
you
've
had
a
time
!
I
say
you
have
had
a
time
!
"
His
eyes
,
full
of
a
warmth
of
kindliness
she
had
not
seen
for
long
weeks
,
scrutinized
her
face
.
"
I
say
!
"
he
repeated
,
very
softly
.
All
her
strength
went
from
her
at
his
tenderness
.
"
Oh
,
my
dear
,
"
she
wailed
,
kneeling
at
his
side
,
"
my
dear
,
dear
!
"
and
still
regardful
of
his
leg
,
she
yet
contrived
to
get
herself
weeping
into
his
coveted
arms
.
He
regarded
her
,
he
held
her
,
he
patted
her
back
!
The
infinite
luxury
to
her
!
He
'd
come
back
.
He
'd
come
back
to
her
.
"
How
long
has
it
been
?
"
he
asked
.
"
Poor
dear
!
Poor
dear
!
How
long
can
it
have
been
?
"
From
that
hour
Trafford
mended
.
He
remained
clear-minded
,
helpful
,
sustaining
.
His
face
healed
daily
.
Marjorie
had
had
to
cut
away
great
fragments
of
gangrenous
frozen
flesh
,
and
he
was
clearly
destined
to
have
a
huge
scar
over
forehead
and
cheek
,
but
in
that
pure
,
clear
air
,
once
the
healing
had
begun
it
progressed
swiftly
.
His
leg
had
set
,
a
little
shorter
than
its
fellow
and
with
a
lump
in
the
middle
of
the
shin
,
but
it
promised
to
be
a
good
serviceable
leg
none
the
less
.
They
examined
it
by
the
light
of
the
stove
with
their
heads
together
,
and
discussed
when
it
would
be
wise
to
try
it
.
How
do
doctors
tell
when
a
man
may
stand
on
his
broken
leg
?
She
had
a
vague
impression
you
must
wait
six
weeks
,
but
she
could
not
remember
why
she
fixed
upon
that
time
.
"
It
seems
a
decent
interval
,
"
said
Trafford
.
"
We
'll
try
it
.
"
She
had
contrived
a
crutch
for
him
against
that
momentous
experiment
,
and
he
sat
up
in
his
bunk
,
pillowed
up
by
a
sack
and
her
rugs
,
and
whittled
it
smooth
,
and
padded
the
fork
with
the
skin
of
that
slaughtered
wolverine
,
poor
victim
of
hunger
!
—
while
she
knelt
by
the
stove
feeding
it
with
logs
,
and
gave
him
an
account
of
their
position
.
"
We
're
somewhere
in
the
middle
of
December
,
"
she
said
,
"
somewhere
between
the
twelfth
and
the
fourteenth
,
—
yes
!
I
'm
as
out
as
that
!
—
and
I
've
handled
the
stores
pretty
freely
.
So
did
that
little
beast
until
I
got
him
.
"
She
nodded
at
the
skin
in
his
hand
.
"
I
do
n't
see
myself
shooting
much
now
,
and
so
far
I
've
not
been
able
to
break
the
ice
to
fish
.
It
's
too
much
for
me
.
Even
if
it
is
n't
too
late
to
fish
.
This
book
we
've
got
describes
barks
and
mosses
,
and
that
will
help
,
but
if
we
stick
here
until
the
birds
and
things
come
,
we
're
going
to
be
precious
short
.
We
may
have
to
last
right
into
July
.
I
've
plans
—
but
it
may
come
to
that
.
We
ought
to
ration
all
the
regular
stuff
,
and
trust
to
luck
for
a
feast
.
The
rations
!
—
I
do
n't
know
what
they
'll
come
to
.
"
"
Right
O
,
"
said
Trafford
admiring
her
capable
gravity
.
"
Let
's
ration
.
"
"
Marjorie
,
"
he
asked
abruptly
,
"
are
you
sorry
we
came
?
"
Her
answer
came
unhesitatingly
.
"
No
!
"
"
Nor
I
.
"
He
paused
.
"
I
've
found
you
out
,
"
he
said
.
"
Dear
dirty
living
thing
!
...
You
are
dirty
,
you
know
.
"
"
I
've
found
myself
,
"
she
answered
,
thinking
.
"
I
feel
as
if
I
've
never
loved
you
until
this
hut
.
I
suppose
I
have
in
my
way
—
—
"
"
Lugano
,
"
he
suggested
.
"
Do
n't
let
's
forget
good
things
,
Marjorie
.
Oh
!
And
endless
times
!
"
"
Oh
,
of
course
!
As
for
that
—
—
!
But
now
—
now
you
're
in
my
bones
.
We
were
just
two
shallow
,
pretty
,
young
things
—
loving
.
It
was
sweet
,
dear
—
sweet
as
youth
—
but
not
this
.
Unkempt
and
weary
—
then
one
understands
love
.
I
suppose
I
am
dirty
.
Think
of
it
!
I
've
lugged
you
through
the
snow
till
my
shoulders
chafed
and
bled
.
I
cried
with
pain
,
and
kept
on
lugging
—
—
Oh
,
my
dear
!
my
dear
!
"
He
kissed
her
hair
.
"
I
've
held
you
in
my
arms
to
keep
you
from
freezing
.
(
I
'd
have
frozen
myself
first
.
)
We
've
got
to
starve
together
perhaps
before
the
end
...
.
Dear
,
if
I
could
make
you
,
you
should
eat
me
...
.
I
'm
—
I
'm
beginning
to
understand
.
I
've
had
a
light
.
I
've
begun
to
understand
.
I
've
begun
to
see
what
life
has
been
for
you
,
and
how
I
've
wasted
—
wasted
.
"
"
We
've
wasted
!
"
"
No
,
"
she
said
,
"
it
was
I
.
"
She
sat
back
on
the
floor
and
regarded
him
.
"
You
do
n't
remember
things
you
said
—
when
you
were
delirious
?
"
"
No
,
"
he
answered
.
"
What
did
I
say
?
"
"
Nothing
?
"
"
Nothing
clearly
.
What
did
I
say
?
"
"
It
does
n't
matter
.
No
,
indeed
.
Only
you
made
me
understand
.
You
'd
never
have
told
me
.
You
've
always
been
a
little
weak
with
me
there
.
But
it
's
plain
to
me
why
we
did
n't
keep
our
happiness
,
why
we
were
estranged
.
If
we
go
back
alive
,
we
go
back
—
all
that
settled
for
good
and
all
.
"
"
What
?
"
"
That
discord
.
My
dear
,
I
've
been
a
fool
,
selfish
,
ill-trained
and
greedy
.
We
've
both
been
floundering
about
,
but
I
've
been
the
mischief
of
it
.
Yes
,
I
've
been
the
trouble
.
Oh
,
it
's
had
to
be
so
.
What
are
we
women
—
half
savages
,
half
pets
,
unemployed
things
of
greed
and
desire
—
and
suddenly
we
want
all
the
rights
and
respect
of
souls
!
I
've
had
your
life
in
my
hands
from
the
moment
we
met
together
.
If
I
had
known
...
.
It
is
n't
that
we
can
make
you
or
guide
you
—
I
'm
not
pretending
to
be
an
inspiration
—
but
—
but
we
can
release
you
.
We
need
n't
press
upon
you
;
we
can
save
you
from
the
instincts
and
passions
that
try
to
waste
you
altogether
on
us
...
.
Yes
,
I
'm
beginning
to
understand
.
Oh
,
my
child
,
my
husband
,
my
man
!
You
talked
of
your
wasted
life
!
...
I
've
been
thinking
—
since
first
we
left
the
Mersey
.
I
've
begun
to
see
what
it
is
to
be
a
woman
.
For
the
first
time
in
my
life
.
We
're
the
responsible
sex
.
And
we
've
forgotten
it
.
We
think
we
've
done
a
wonder
if
we
've
borne
men
into
the
world
and
smiled
a
little
,
but
indeed
we
've
got
to
bear
them
all
our
lives
...
.
A
woman
has
to
be
steadier
than
a
man
and
more
self-sacrificing
than
a
man
,
because
when
she
plunges
she
does
more
harm
than
a
man
...
.
And
what
does
she
achieve
if
she
does
plunge
?
Nothing
—
nothing
worth
counting
.
Dresses
and
carpets
and
hangings
and
pretty
arrangements
,
excitements
and
satisfactions
and
competition
and
more
excitements
.
We
ca
n't
do
things
.
We
do
n't
bring
things
off
!
And
you
,
you
Monster
!
you
Dream
!
you
want
to
stick
your
hand
out
of
all
that
is
and
make
something
that
is
n't
,
begin
to
be
!
That
's
the
man
—
—
"
"
Dear
old
Madge
!
"
he
said
,
"
there
's
all
sorts
of
women
and
all
sorts
of
men
.
"
"
Well
,
our
sort
of
women
,
then
,
and
our
sort
of
men
.
"
"
I
doubt
even
that
.
"
"
I
do
n't
.
I
've
found
my
place
.
I
've
been
making
my
master
my
servant
.
We
women
—
we
've
been
looting
all
the
good
things
in
the
world
,
and
helping
nothing
.
You
've
carried
me
on
your
back
until
you
are
loathing
life
.
I
've
been
making
you
fetch
and
carry
for
me
,
love
me
,
dress
me
,
keep
me
and
my
children
,
minister
to
my
vanities
and
greeds
...
.
No
;
let
me
go
on
.
I
'm
so
penitent
,
my
dear
,
so
penitent
I
want
to
kneel
down
here
and
marry
you
all
over
again
,
heal
up
your
broken
life
and
begin
again
.
"
...
She
paused
.
"
One
does
n't
begin
again
,
"
she
said
.
"
But
I
want
to
take
a
new
turn
.
Dear
,
you
're
still
only
a
young
man
;
we
've
thirty
or
forty
years
before
us
—
forty
years
perhaps
or
more
...
.
What
shall
we
do
with
our
years
?
We
've
loved
,
we
've
got
children
.
What
remains
?
Here
we
can
plan
it
out
,
work
it
out
,
day
after
day
.
What
shall
we
do
with
our
lives
and
life
?
Tell
me
,
make
me
your
partner
;
it
's
you
who
know
,
what
are
we
doing
with
life
?
"
What
are
we
doing
with
life
?
That
question
overtakes
a
reluctant
and
fugitive
humanity
.
The
Traffords
were
but
two
of
a
great
scattered
host
of
people
,
who
,
obeying
all
the
urgencies
of
need
and
desire
,
struggling
,
loving
,
begetting
,
enjoying
,
do
nevertheless
find
themselves
at
last
unsatisfied
.
They
have
lived
the
round
of
experience
,
achieved
all
that
living
creatures
have
sought
since
the
beginning
of
the
world
—
security
and
gratification
and
offspring
—
and
they
find
themselves
still
strong
,
unsatiated
,
with
power
in
their
hands
and
years
before
them
,
empty
of
purpose
.
What
are
they
to
do
?
The
world
presents
such
a
spectacle
of
evasion
as
it
has
never
seen
before
.
Never
was
there
such
a
boiling
over
and
waste
of
vital
energy
.
The
Sphinx
of
our
opportunity
calls
for
the
uttermost
powers
of
heart
and
brain
to
read
its
riddle
—
the
new
,
astonishing
riddle
of
excessive
power
.
A
few
give
themselves
to
those
honourable
adventures
that
extend
the
range
of
man
,
they
explore
untravelled
countries
,
climb
remote
mountains
,
conduct
researches
,
risk
life
and
limb
in
the
fantastic
experiments
of
flight
,
and
a
monstrous
outpouring
of
labour
and
material
goes
on
in
the
strenuous
preparation
for
needless
and
improbable
wars
.
The
rest
divert
themselves
with
the
dwarfish
satisfactions
of
recognized
vice
,
the
meagre
routine
of
pleasure
,
or
still
more
timidly
with
sport
and
games
—
those
new
unscheduled
perversions
of
the
soul
.
We
are
afraid
of
our
new
selves
.
The
dawn
of
human
opportunity
appals
us
.
Few
of
us
dare
look
upon
this
strange
light
of
freedom
and
limitless
resources
that
breaks
upon
our
world
.
"
Think
,
"
said
Trafford
,
"
while
we
sit
here
in
this
dark
hut
—
think
of
the
surplus
life
that
wastes
itself
in
the
world
for
sheer
lack
of
direction
.
Away
there
in
England
—
I
suppose
that
is
westward
"
—
he
pointed
—
"
there
are
thousands
of
men
going
out
to-day
to
shoot
.
Think
of
the
beautifully
made
guns
,
the
perfected
ammunition
,
the
excellent
clothes
,
the
army
of
beaters
,
the
carefully
preserved
woodland
,
the
admirable
science
of
it
—
all
for
that
idiot
massacre
of
half-tame
birds
!
Just
because
man
once
had
need
to
be
a
hunter
!
Think
of
the
others
again
—
golfing
.
Think
of
the
big
,
elaborate
houses
from
which
they
come
,
the
furnishings
,
the
service
.
And
the
women
—
dressing
!
Perpetually
dressing
.
You
,
Marjorie
—
you
've
done
nothing
but
dress
since
we
married
.
No
,
let
me
abuse
you
,
dear
!
It
's
insane
,
you
know
!
You
dress
your
minds
a
little
to
talk
amusingly
,
you
spread
your
minds
out
to
backgrounds
,
to
households
,
picturesque
and
delightful
gardens
,
nurseries
.
Those
nurseries
!
Think
of
our
tremendously
cherished
and
educated
children
!
And
when
they
grow
up
,
what
have
we
got
for
them
?
A
feast
of
futility
...
.
"
On
the
evening
of
the
day
when
Trafford
first
tried
to
stand
upon
his
leg
,
they
talked
far
into
the
night
.
It
had
been
a
great
and
eventful
day
for
them
,
full
of
laughter
and
exultation
.
He
had
been
at
first
ridiculously
afraid
;
he
had
clung
to
her
almost
childishly
,
and
she
had
held
him
about
the
body
with
his
weight
on
her
strong
right
arm
and
his
right
arm
in
her
left
hand
,
concealing
her
own
dread
of
a
collapse
under
a
mask
of
taunting
courage
.
The
crutch
had
proved
admirable
.
"
It
's
my
silly
knees
!
"
Trafford
kept
on
saying
.
"
The
leg
's
all
right
,
but
I
get
put
out
by
my
silly
knees
.
"
They
made
the
day
a
feast
,
a
dinner
of
two
whole
day
's
rations
and
a
special
soup
instead
of
supper
.
"
The
birds
will
come
,
"
they
explained
to
each
other
,
"
ducks
and
geese
,
long
before
May
.
May
,
you
know
,
is
the
latest
.
"
Marjorie
confessed
the
habit
of
sharing
his
pipe
was
growing
on
her
.
"
What
shall
we
do
in
Tyburnia
!
"
she
said
,
and
left
it
to
the
imagination
.
"
If
ever
we
get
back
there
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
do
n't
much
fancy
kicking
a
skirt
before
my
shins
again
—
and
I
'll
be
a
black
,
coarse
woman
down
to
my
neck
at
dinner
for
years
to
come
!
...
"
Then
,
as
he
lay
back
in
his
bunk
and
she
crammed
the
stove
with
fresh
boughs
and
twigs
of
balsam
that
filled
the
little
space
about
them
with
warmth
and
with
a
faint
,
sweet
smell
of
burning
and
with
flitting
red
reflections
,
he
took
up
a
talk
about
religion
they
had
begun
some
days
before
.
"
You
see
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
've
always
believed
in
Salvation
.
I
suppose
a
man
's
shy
of
saying
so
—
even
to
his
wife
.
But
I
've
always
believed
more
or
less
distinctly
that
there
was
something
up
to
which
a
life
worked
—
always
.
It
's
been
rather
vague
,
I
'll
admit
.
I
do
n't
think
I
've
ever
believed
in
individual
salvation
.
You
see
,
I
feel
these
are
deep
things
,
and
the
deeper
one
gets
the
less
individual
one
becomes
.
That
's
why
one
thinks
of
those
things
in
darkness
and
loneliness
—
and
finds
them
hard
to
tell
.
One
has
an
individual
voice
,
or
an
individual
birthmark
,
or
an
individualized
old
hat
,
but
the
soul
—
the
soul
's
different
...
.
It
is
n't
me
talking
to
you
when
it
comes
to
that
...
.
This
question
of
what
we
are
doing
with
life
is
n't
a
question
to
begin
with
for
you
and
me
as
ourselves
,
but
for
you
and
me
as
mankind
.
Am
I
spinning
it
too
fine
,
Madge
?
"
"
No
,
"
she
said
,
intent
;
"
go
on
.
"
"
You
see
,
when
we
talk
rations
here
,
Marjorie
,
it
's
ourselves
,
but
when
we
talk
religion
—
it
's
mankind
.
You
've
either
got
to
be
Everyman
in
religion
or
leave
it
alone
.
That
's
my
idea
.
It
's
no
more
presumptuous
to
think
for
the
race
than
it
is
for
a
beggar
to
pray
—
though
that
means
going
right
up
to
God
and
talking
to
Him
.
Salvation
's
a
collective
thing
and
a
mystical
thing
—
or
there
is
n't
any
.
Fancy
the
Almighty
and
me
sitting
up
and
keeping
Eternity
together
!
God
and
R
.
A
.
G
.
Trafford
,
F.R.S.
—
that
's
silly
.
Fancy
a
man
in
number
seven
boots
,
and
a
tailor-made
suit
in
the
nineteen-fourteen
fashion
,
sitting
before
God
!
That
's
caricature
.
But
God
and
Man
!
That
's
sense
,
Marjorie
.
"
...
He
stopped
and
stared
at
her
.
Marjorie
sat
red-lit
,
regarding
him
.
"
Queer
things
you
say
!
"
she
said
.
"
So
much
of
this
I
've
never
thought
out
.
I
wonder
why
I
've
never
done
so
...
.
Too
busy
with
many
things
,
I
suppose
.
But
go
on
and
tell
me
more
of
these
secrets
you
've
kept
from
me
!
"
"
Well
,
we
've
got
to
talk
of
these
things
as
mankind
—
or
just
leave
them
alone
,
and
shoot
pheasants
.
"
...
"
If
I
could
shoot
a
pheasant
now
!
"
whispered
Marjorie
,
involuntarily
.
"
And
where
do
we
stand
?
What
do
we
need
—
I
mean
the
whole
race
of
us
—
kings
and
beggars
together
?
You
know
,
Marjorie
,
it
's
this
,
—
it
's
Understanding
.
That
's
what
mankind
has
got
to
,
the
realization
that
it
does
n't
understand
,
that
it
ca
n't
express
,
that
it
's
purblind
.
We
have
n't
got
eyes
for
those
greater
things
,
but
we
've
got
the
promise
—
the
intimation
of
eyes
.
We
've
come
out
of
an
unsuspecting
darkness
,
brute
animal
darkness
,
not
into
sight
,
that
's
been
the
mistake
,
but
into
a
feeling
of
illumination
,
into
a
feeling
of
light
shining
through
our
opacity
...
.
"
I
feel
that
man
has
now
before
all
things
to
know
.
That
's
his
supreme
duty
,
to
feel
,
realize
,
see
,
understand
,
express
himself
to
the
utmost
limits
of
his
power
.
"
He
sat
up
,
speaking
very
earnestly
to
her
,
and
in
that
flickering
light
she
realized
for
the
first
time
how
thin
he
had
become
,
how
bright
and
hollow
his
eyes
,
his
hair
was
long
over
his
eyes
,
and
a
rough
beard
flowed
down
to
his
chest
.
"
All
the
religions
,
"
he
said
,
"
all
the
philosophies
,
have
pretended
to
achieve
too
much
.
We
've
no
language
yet
for
religious
truth
or
metaphysical
truth
;
we
've
no
basis
yet
broad
enough
and
strong
enough
on
which
to
build
.
Religion
and
philosophy
have
been
impudent
and
quackish
—
quackish
!
They
've
been
like
the
doctors
,
who
have
always
pretended
they
could
cure
since
the
beginning
of
things
,
cure
everything
,
and
to
this
day
even
they
have
n't
got
more
than
the
beginnings
of
knowledge
on
which
to
base
a
cure
.
They
've
lacked
humility
,
they
've
lacked
the
honour
to
say
they
did
n't
know
;
the
priests
took
things
of
wood
and
stone
,
the
philosophers
took
little
odd
arrangements
of
poor
battered
words
,
metaphors
,
analogies
,
abstractions
,
and
said
:
"
That
's
it
!
Think
of
their
silly
old
Absolute
,
—
ab-solutus
,
an
untied
parcel
.
I
heard
Haldane
at
the
Aristotelian
once
,
go
on
for
an
hour
—
no
!
it
was
longer
than
an
hour
—
as
glib
and
slick
as
a
well-oiled
sausage-machine
,
about
the
different
sorts
of
Absolute
,
and
not
a
soul
of
us
laughed
out
at
him
!
The
vanity
of
such
profundities
!
They
've
no
faith
,
faith
in
patience
,
faith
to
wait
for
the
coming
of
God
.
And
since
we
do
n't
know
God
,
since
we
do
n't
know
His
will
with
us
,
is
n't
it
plain
that
all
our
lives
should
be
a
search
for
Him
and
it
?
Can
anything
else
matter
,
—
after
we
are
free
from
necessity
?
That
is
the
work
now
that
is
before
all
mankind
,
to
attempt
understanding
—
by
the
perpetual
finding
of
thought
and
the
means
of
expression
,
by
perpetual
extension
and
refinement
of
science
,
by
the
research
that
every
artist
makes
for
beauty
and
significance
in
his
art
,
by
the
perpetual
testing
and
destruction
and
rebirth
under
criticism
of
all
these
things
,
and
by
a
perpetual
extension
of
this
intensifying
wisdom
to
more
minds
and
more
minds
and
more
,
till
all
men
share
in
it
,
and
share
in
the
making
of
it
...
.
There
you
have
my
creed
,
Marjorie
;
there
you
have
the
very
marrow
of
me
.
"
...
He
became
silent
.
"
Will
you
go
back
to
your
work
?
"
she
said
,
abruptly
.
"
Go
back
to
your
laboratory
?
"
He
stared
at
her
for
a
moment
without
speaking
.
"
Never
,
"
he
said
at
last
.
"
But
,
"
she
said
,
and
the
word
dropped
from
her
like
a
stone
that
falls
down
a
well
...
.
"
My
dear
,
"
he
said
,
at
last
,
"
I
've
thought
of
that
.
But
since
I
left
that
dear
,
dusty
little
laboratory
,
and
all
those
exquisite
subtle
things
—
I
've
lived
.
I
've
left
that
man
seven
long
years
behind
me
.
Some
other
man
must
go
on
—
I
think
some
younger
man
—
with
the
riddles
I
found
to
work
on
then
.
I
've
grown
—
into
something
different
.
It
is
n't
how
atoms
swing
with
one
another
,
or
why
they
build
themselves
up
so
and
not
so
,
that
matters
any
more
to
me
.
I
've
got
you
and
all
the
world
in
which
we
live
,
and
a
new
set
of
riddles
filling
my
mind
,
how
thought
swings
about
thought
,
how
one
man
attracts
his
fellows
,
how
the
waves
of
motive
and
conviction
sweep
through
a
crowd
and
all
the
little
drifting
crystallizations
of
spirit
with
spirit
and
all
the
repulsions
and
eddies
and
difficulties
,
that
one
can
catch
in
that
turbulent
confusion
.
I
want
to
do
a
new
sort
of
work
now
altogether
...
.
Life
has
swamped
me
once
,
but
I
do
n't
think
it
will
get
me
under
again
;
—
I
want
to
study
men
.
"
He
paused
and
she
waited
,
with
a
face
aglow
.
"
I
want
to
go
back
to
watch
and
think
—
and
I
suppose
write
.
I
believe
I
shall
write
criticism
.
But
everything
that
matters
is
criticism
!
...
I
want
to
get
into
contact
with
the
men
who
are
thinking
.
I
do
n't
mean
to
meet
them
necessarily
,
but
to
get
into
the
souls
of
their
books
.
Every
writer
who
has
anything
to
say
,
every
artist
who
matters
,
is
the
stronger
for
every
man
or
woman
who
responds
to
him
.
That
's
the
great
work
—
the
Reality
.
I
want
to
become
a
part
of
this
stuttering
attempt
to
express
,
I
want
at
least
to
resonate
,
even
if
I
do
not
help
...
.
And
you
with
me
,
Marjorie
—
you
with
me
!
Everything
I
write
I
want
you
to
see
and
think
about
.
I
want
you
to
read
as
I
read
...
.
Now
after
so
long
,
now
that
,
now
that
we
've
begun
to
talk
,
you
know
,
talk
again
—
—
"
Something
stopped
his
voice
.
Something
choked
them
both
into
silence
.
He
held
out
a
lean
hand
,
and
she
shuffled
on
her
knees
to
take
it
...
.
"
Do
n't
please
make
me
,
"
she
stumbled
through
her
thoughts
,
"
one
of
those
little
parasitic
,
parroting
wives
—
do
n't
pretend
too
much
about
me
—
because
you
want
me
with
you
—
—
.
Do
n't
forget
a
woman
is
n't
a
man
.
"
"
Old
Madge
,
"
he
said
,
"
you
and
I
have
got
to
march
together
.
Did
n't
I
love
you
from
the
first
,
from
that
time
when
I
was
a
boy
examiner
and
you
were
a
candidate
girl
—
because
your
mind
was
clear
?
"
"
And
we
will
go
back
,
"
she
whispered
,
"
with
a
work
—
—
"
"
With
a
purpose
,
"
he
said
.
She
disengaged
herself
from
his
arm
,
and
sat
close
to
him
upon
the
floor
.
"
I
think
I
can
see
what
you
will
do
,
"
she
said
.
She
mused
.
"
For
the
first
time
I
begin
to
see
things
as
they
may
be
for
us
.
I
begin
to
see
a
life
ahead
.
For
the
very
first
time
.
"
Queer
ideas
came
drifting
into
her
head
.
Suddenly
she
cried
out
sharply
in
that
high
note
he
loved
.
"
Good
heavens
!
"
she
said
.
"
The
absurdity
!
The
infinite
absurdity
!
"
"
But
what
?
"
"
I
might
have
married
Will
Magnet
—
—
.
That
's
all
.
"
She
sprang
to
her
feet
.
There
came
a
sound
of
wind
outside
,
a
shifting
of
snow
on
the
roof
,
and
the
door
creaked
.
"
Half-past
eleven
,
"
she
exclaimed
looking
at
the
watch
that
hung
in
the
light
of
the
stove
door
.
"
I
do
n't
want
to
sleep
yet
;
do
you
?
I
'm
going
to
brew
some
tea
—
make
a
convivial
drink
.
And
then
we
will
go
on
talking
.
It
's
so
good
talking
to
you
.
So
good
!
...
I
've
an
idea
!
Do
n't
you
think
on
this
special
day
,
it
might
run
to
a
biscuit
?
"
Her
face
was
keenly
anxious
.
He
nodded
.
"
One
biscuit
each
,
"
she
said
,
trying
to
rob
her
voice
of
any
note
of
criminality
.
"
Just
one
,
you
know
,
wo
n't
matter
.
"
She
hovered
for
some
moments
close
to
the
stove
before
she
went
into
the
arctic
corner
that
contained
the
tin
of
tea
.
"
If
we
can
really
live
like
that
!
"
she
said
.
"
When
we
are
home
again
.
"
"
Why
not
?
"
he
answered
.
She
made
no
answer
,
but
went
across
for
the
tea
...
.
He
turned
his
head
at
the
sound
of
the
biscuit
tin
and
watched
her
put
out
the
precious
discs
.
"
I
shall
have
another
pipe
,
"
he
proclaimed
,
with
an
agreeable
note
of
excess
.
"
Thank
heaven
for
unstinted
tobacco
...
.
"
And
now
Marjorie
's
mind
was
teaming
with
thoughts
of
this
new
conception
of
a
life
lived
for
understanding
.
As
she
went
about
the
preparation
of
the
tea
,
her
vividly
concrete
imagination
was
active
with
the
realization
of
the
life
they
would
lead
on
their
return
.
She
could
not
see
it
otherwise
than
framed
in
a
tall
,
fine
room
,
a
study
,
a
study
in
sombre
tones
,
with
high
,
narrow
,
tall
,
dignified
bookshelves
and
rich
deep
green
curtains
veiling
its
windows
.
There
should
be
a
fireplace
of
white
marble
,
very
plain
and
well
proportioned
,
with
furnishings
of
old
brass
,
and
a
big
desk
towards
the
window
beautifully
lit
by
electric
light
,
with
abundant
space
for
papers
to
lie
.
And
she
wanted
some
touch
of
the
wilderness
about
it
;
a
skin
perhaps
...
.
The
tea
was
still
infusing
when
she
had
determined
upon
an
enormous
paper-weight
of
that
iridescent
Labradorite
that
had
been
so
astonishing
a
feature
of
the
Green
River
Valley
.
She
would
have
it
polished
on
one
side
only
—
the
other
should
be
rough
to
show
the
felspar
in
its
natural
state
...
.
It
was
n't
that
she
did
n't
feel
and
understand
quite
fully
the
intention
and
significance
of
all
he
had
said
,
but
that
in
these
symbols
of
texture
and
equipment
her
mind
quite
naturally
clothed
itself
.
And
while
this
room
was
coming
into
anticipatory
being
in
her
mind
,
she
was
making
the
tea
very
deftly
and
listening
to
Trafford
's
every
word
.
That
talk
marked
an
epoch
to
Marjorie
.
From
that
day
forth
her
imagination
began
to
shape
a
new
,
ordered
and
purposeful
life
for
Trafford
and
herself
in
London
,
a
life
not
altogether
divorced
from
their
former
life
,
but
with
a
faith
sustaining
it
and
aims
controlling
it
.
She
had
always
known
of
the
breadth
and
power
of
his
mind
,
but
now
as
he
talked
of
what
he
might
do
,
what
interests
might
converge
and
give
results
through
him
,
it
seemed
she
really
knew
him
for
the
first
time
.
In
his
former
researches
,
so
technical
and
withdrawn
,
she
had
seen
little
of
his
mind
in
action
:
now
he
was
dealing
in
his
own
fashion
with
things
she
could
clearly
understand
.
There
were
times
when
his
talk
affected
her
like
that
joy
of
light
one
has
in
emerging
into
sunshine
from
a
long
and
tedious
cave
.
He
swept
things
together
,
flashed
unsuspected
correlations
upon
her
intelligence
,
smashed
and
scattered
absurd
yet
venerated
conventions
of
thought
,
made
undreamt-of
courses
of
action
visible
in
a
flare
of
luminous
necessity
.
And
she
could
follow
him
and
help
him
.
Just
as
she
had
hampered
him
and
crippled
him
,
so
now
she
could
release
him
—
she
fondled
that
word
.
She
found
a
preposterous
image
in
her
mind
that
she
hid
like
a
disgraceful
secret
,
that
she
tried
to
forget
,
and
yet
its
stupendous
,
its
dreamlike
absurdity
had
something
in
it
that
shaped
her
delight
as
nothing
else
could
do
;
she
was
,
she
told
herself
—
hawking
with
an
archangel
!
...
These
were
her
moods
of
exaltation
.
And
she
was
sure
she
had
never
loved
her
man
before
,
that
this
was
indeed
her
beginning
.
It
was
as
if
she
had
just
found
him
...
.
Perhaps
,
she
thought
,
true
lovers
keep
on
finding
each
other
all
through
their
lives
.
And
he
too
had
discovered
her
.
All
the
host
of
Marjories
he
had
known
,
the
shining
,
delightful
,
seductive
,
wilful
,
perplexing
aspects
that
had
so
filled
her
life
,
gave
place
altogether
for
a
time
to
this
steady-eyed
woman
,
lean
and
warm-wrapped
with
the
valiant
heart
and
the
frost-roughened
skin
.
What
a
fine
,
strong
,
ruddy
thing
she
was
!
How
glad
he
was
for
this
wild
adventure
in
the
wilderness
,
if
only
because
it
had
made
him
lie
among
the
rocks
and
think
of
her
and
wait
for
her
and
despair
of
her
life
and
God
,
and
at
last
see
her
coming
back
to
him
,
flushed
with
effort
and
calling
his
name
to
him
out
of
that
whirlwind
of
snow
...
.
And
there
was
at
least
one
old
memory
mixed
up
with
all
these
new
and
overmastering
impressions
,
the
memory
of
her
clear
unhesitating
voice
as
it
had
stabbed
into
his
life
again
long
years
ago
,
minute
and
bright
in
the
telephone
:
"
It
's
me
,
you
know
.
It
's
Marjorie
!
"
Perhaps
after
all
she
had
not
wasted
a
moment
of
his
life
,
perhaps
every
issue
between
them
had
been
necessary
,
and
it
was
good
altogether
to
be
turned
from
the
study
of
crystals
to
the
study
of
men
and
women
...
.
And
now
both
their
minds
were
Londonward
,
where
all
the
tides
and
driftage
and
currents
of
human
thought
still
meet
and
swirl
together
.
They
were
full
of
what
they
would
do
when
they
got
back
.
Marjorie
sketched
that
study
to
him
—
in
general
terms
and
without
the
paper-weight
—
and
began
to
shape
the
world
she
would
have
about
it
.
She
meant
to
be
his
squaw
and
body-servant
first
of
all
,
and
then
—
a
mother
.
Children
,
she
said
,
are
none
the
worse
for
being
kept
a
little
out
of
focus
.
And
he
was
rapidly
planning
out
his
approach
to
the
new
questions
to
which
he
was
now
to
devote
his
life
.
"
One
wants
something
to
hold
the
work
together
,
"
he
said
,
and
projected
a
book
.
"
One
cannot
struggle
at
large
for
plain
statement
and
copious
and
free
and
courageous
statement
,
one
needs
a
positive
attack
.
"
He
designed
a
book
,
which
he
might
write
if
only
for
the
definition
it
would
give
him
and
with
no
ultimate
publication
,
which
was
to
be
called
:
"
The
Limits
of
Language
as
a
Means
of
Expression
.
"
...
It
was
to
be
a
pragmatist
essay
,
a
sustained
attempt
to
undermine
the
confidence
of
all
that
scholasticism
and
logic
chopping
which
still
lingers
like
the
sequelæ
of
a
disease
in
our
University
philosophy
.
"
Those
duffers
sit
in
their
studies
and
make
a
sort
of
tea
of
dry
old
words
—
and
think
they
're
distilling
the
spirit
of
wisdom
,
"
he
said
.
He
proliferated
titles
for
a
time
,
and
settled
at
last
on
"
From
Realism
to
Reality
.
"
He
wanted
to
get
at
that
at
once
;
it
fretted
him
to
have
to
hang
in
the
air
,
day
by
day
,
for
want
of
books
to
quote
and
opponents
to
lance
and
confute
.
And
he
wanted
to
see
pictures
,
too
and
plays
,
read
novels
he
had
heard
of
and
never
read
,
in
order
to
verify
or
correct
the
ideas
that
were
seething
in
his
mind
about
the
qualities
of
artistic
expression
.
His
thought
had
come
out
to
a
conviction
that
the
line
to
wider
human
understandings
lies
through
a
huge
criticism
and
cleaning
up
of
the
existing
methods
of
formulation
,
as
a
preliminary
to
the
wider
and
freer
discussion
of
those
religious
and
social
issues
our
generation
still
shrinks
from
.
"
It
's
grotesque
,
"
he
said
,
"
and
utterly
true
that
the
sanity
and
happiness
of
all
the
world
lies
in
its
habits
of
generalization
.
"
There
was
not
even
paper
for
him
to
make
notes
or
provisional
drafts
of
the
new
work
.
He
hobbled
about
the
camp
fretting
at
these
deprivations
.
"
Marjorie
,
"
he
said
,
"
we
've
done
our
job
.
Why
should
we
wait
here
on
this
frosty
shelf
outside
the
world
?
My
leg
's
getting
sounder
—
if
it
was
n't
for
that
feeling
of
ice
in
it
.
Why
should
n't
we
make
another
sledge
from
the
other
bunk
and
start
down
—
"
"
To
Hammond
?
"
"
Why
not
?
"
"
But
the
way
?
"
"
The
valley
would
guide
us
.
We
could
do
four
hours
a
day
before
we
had
to
camp
.
I
'm
not
sure
we
could
n't
try
the
river
.
We
could
drag
and
carry
all
our
food
...
.
"
She
looked
down
the
wide
stretches
of
the
valley
.
There
was
the
hill
they
had
christened
Marjorie
Ridge
.
At
least
it
was
familiar
.
Every
night
before
nightfall
if
they
started
there
would
be
a
fresh
camping
place
to
seek
among
the
snow-drifts
,
a
great
heap
of
wood
to
cut
to
last
the
night
.
Suppose
his
leg
gave
out
—
when
they
were
already
some
days
away
,
so
that
he
could
no
longer
go
on
or
she
drag
him
back
to
the
stores
.
Plainly
there
would
be
nothing
for
it
then
but
to
lie
down
and
die
together
...
.
And
a
sort
of
weariness
had
come
to
her
as
a
consequence
of
two
months
of
half-starved
days
,
not
perhaps
a
failure
so
much
as
a
reluctance
of
spirit
.
"
Of
course
,
"
she
said
,
with
a
new
aspect
drifting
before
her
mind
,
"
then
—
we
could
eat
.
We
could
feed
up
before
we
started
.
We
could
feast
almost
!
"
"
While
you
were
asleep
the
other
night
,
"
Trafford
began
one
day
as
they
sat
spinning
out
their
mid-day
meal
,
"
I
was
thinking
how
badly
I
had
expressed
myself
when
I
talked
to
you
the
other
day
,
and
what
a
queer
,
thin
affair
I
made
of
the
plans
I
wanted
to
carry
out
.
As
a
matter
of
fact
,
they
're
neither
queer
nor
thin
,
but
they
are
unreal
in
comparison
with
the
common
things
of
everyday
life
,
hunger
,
anger
,
all
the
immediate
desires
.
They
must
be
.
They
only
begin
when
those
others
are
at
peace
.
It
's
hard
to
set
out
these
things
;
they
're
complicated
and
subtle
,
and
one
cannot
simplify
without
falsehood
.
I
do
n't
want
to
simplify
.
The
world
has
gone
out
of
its
way
time
after
time
through
simplifications
and
short
cuts
.
Save
us
from
epigrams
!
And
when
one
thinks
over
what
one
has
said
,
at
a
little
distance
,
—
one
wants
to
go
back
to
it
,
and
say
it
all
again
.
I
seem
to
be
not
so
much
thinking
things
out
as
reviving
and
developing
things
I
've
had
growing
in
my
mind
ever
since
we
met
.
It
's
as
though
an
immense
reservoir
of
thought
had
filled
up
in
my
mind
at
last
and
was
beginning
to
trickle
over
and
break
down
the
embankment
between
us
.
This
conflict
that
has
been
going
on
between
our
life
together
and
my
—
my
intellectual
life
;
it
's
only
just
growing
clear
in
my
own
mind
.
Yet
it
's
just
as
if
one
turned
up
a
light
on
something
that
had
always
been
there
...
.
"
It
's
a
most
extraordinary
thing
to
think
out
,
Marjorie
,
that
antagonism
.
Our
love
has
kept
us
so
close
together
and
always
our
purposes
have
been
—
like
that
.
"
He
spread
divergent
hands
.
"
I
've
speculated
again
and
again
whether
there
is
n't
something
incurably
antagonistic
between
women
(
that
's
you
generalized
,
Marjorie
)
and
men
(
that
's
me
)
directly
we
pass
beyond
the
conditions
of
the
individualistic
struggle
.
I
believe
every
couple
of
lovers
who
've
ever
married
have
felt
that
strain
.
Yet
it
's
not
a
difference
in
kind
between
us
but
degree
.
The
big
conflict
between
us
has
a
parallel
in
a
little
internal
conflict
that
goes
on
;
there
's
something
of
man
in
every
woman
and
a
touch
of
the
feminine
in
every
man
.
But
you
're
nearer
as
woman
to
the
immediate
personal
life
of
sense
and
reality
than
I
am
as
man
.
It
's
been
so
ever
since
the
men
went
hunting
and
fighting
and
the
women
kept
hut
,
tended
the
children
and
gathered
roots
in
the
little
cultivation
close
at
hand
.
It
's
been
so
perhaps
since
the
female
carried
and
suckled
her
child
and
distinguished
one
male
from
another
.
It
may
be
it
will
always
be
so
.
Men
were
released
from
that
close
,
continuous
touch
with
physical
necessities
long
before
women
were
.
It
's
only
now
that
women
begin
to
be
released
.
For
ages
now
men
have
been
wandering
from
field
and
home
and
city
,
over
the
hills
and
far
away
,
in
search
of
adventures
and
fresh
ideas
and
the
wells
of
mystery
beyond
the
edge
of
the
world
,
but
it
's
only
now
that
the
woman
comes
with
them
too
.
Our
difference
is
n't
a
difference
in
kind
,
old
Marjorie
;
it
's
the
difference
between
the
old
adventurer
and
the
new
feet
upon
the
trail
.
"
"
We
've
got
to
come
,
"
said
Marjorie
.
"
Oh
!
you
've
got
to
come
.
No
good
to
be
pioneers
if
the
race
does
not
follow
.
The
women
are
the
backbone
of
the
race
;
the
men
are
just
the
individuals
.
Into
this
Labrador
and
into
all
the
wild
and
desolate
places
of
thought
and
desire
,
if
men
come
you
women
have
to
come
too
—
and
bring
the
race
with
you
.
Some
day
.
"
"
A
long
day
,
mate
of
my
heart
.
"
"
Who
knows
how
long
or
how
far
?
Are
n't
you
at
any
rate
here
,
dear
woman
of
mine
...
.
(
Surely
you
are
here
)
.
"
He
went
off
at
a
tangent
.
"
There
's
all
those
words
that
seem
to
mean
something
and
then
do
n't
seem
to
mean
anything
,
that
keep
shifting
to
and
fro
from
the
deepest
significance
to
the
shallowest
of
claptrap
,
Socialism
,
Christianity
...
.
You
know
,
—
they
are
n't
anything
really
,
as
yet
;
they
are
something
trying
to
be
...
.
Have
n't
I
said
that
before
,
Marjorie
?
"
She
looked
round
at
him
.
"
You
said
something
like
that
when
you
were
delirious
,
"
she
answered
,
after
a
little
pause
.
"
It
's
one
of
the
ideas
that
you
're
struggling
with
.
You
go
on
,
old
man
,
and
talk
.
We
've
months
—
for
repetitions
.
"
"
Well
,
I
mean
that
all
these
things
are
seeking
after
a
sort
of
co-operation
that
's
greater
than
our
power
even
of
imaginative
realization
;
that
's
what
I
mean
.
The
kingdom
of
Heaven
,
the
communion
of
saints
,
the
fellowship
of
men
;
these
are
things
like
high
peaks
far
out
of
the
common
life
of
every
day
,
shining
things
that
madden
certain
sorts
of
men
to
climb
.
Certain
sorts
of
us
!
I
'm
a
religious
man
,
I
'm
a
socialistic
man
.
These
calls
are
more
to
me
than
my
daily
bread
.
I
've
got
something
in
me
more
generalizing
than
most
men
.
I
'm
more
so
than
many
other
men
and
most
other
women
,
I
'm
more
socialistic
than
you
...
.
"
"
You
know
,
Marjorie
,
I
've
always
felt
you
're
a
finer
individual
than
me
,
I
've
never
had
a
doubt
of
it
.
You
're
more
beautiful
by
far
than
I
,
woman
for
my
man
.
You
've
a
keener
appetite
for
things
,
a
firmer
grip
on
the
substance
of
life
.
I
love
to
see
you
do
things
,
love
to
see
you
move
,
love
to
watch
your
hands
;
you
've
cleverer
hands
than
mine
by
far
...
.
And
yet
—
I
'm
a
deeper
and
bigger
thing
than
you
.
I
reach
up
to
something
you
do
n't
reach
up
to
...
.
You
're
in
life
—
and
I
'm
a
little
out
of
it
,
I
'm
like
one
of
those
fish
that
began
to
be
amphibian
,
I
go
out
into
something
where
you
do
n't
follow
—
where
you
hardly
begin
to
follow
.
"
That
's
the
real
perplexity
between
thousands
of
men
and
women
...
.
"
It
seems
to
me
that
the
primitive
socialism
of
Christianity
and
all
the
stuff
of
modern
socialism
that
matters
is
really
aiming
—
almost
unconsciously
,
I
admit
at
times
—
at
one
simple
end
,
at
the
release
of
the
human
spirit
from
the
individualistic
struggle
—
—
"
You
used
'
release
'
the
other
day
,
Marjorie
?
Of
course
,
I
remember
.
It
's
queer
how
I
go
on
talking
after
you
have
understood
.
"
"
It
was
just
a
flash
,
"
said
Marjorie
.
"
We
have
intimations
.
Neither
of
us
really
understands
.
We
're
like
people
climbing
a
mountain
in
a
mist
,
that
thins
out
for
a
moment
and
shows
valleys
and
cities
,
and
then
closes
in
again
,
before
we
can
recognize
them
or
make
out
where
we
are
.
"
Trafford
thought
.
"
When
I
talk
to
you
,
I
've
always
felt
I
must
n't
be
too
vague
.
And
the
very
essence
of
all
this
is
a
vague
thing
,
something
