And, in brief--he ought not to have gone there to
lunch. After that he began composing letters at a great rate.
Delicate--explanatory. Was it on the whole best to be
explanatory? . . .
It was going to be a tremendous job, this breaking with her. And it
had begun so easily. . . .
There was, he remembered with amazing vividness, a little hollow he
had found under her ear, and how when he kissed her there it always
made her forget her worries and ethical problems for a time and turn
to him. . . .
"No," he said grimly, "it must end," and rolled over and stared at
the black. . . .
Like an insidious pedlar, that old rascal whom young literary
gentlemen call the Great God Pan, began to spread his wares in the
young man's memory. . . .
After long and feverish wanderings of the mind, and some talking to
himself and walking about the room, he did at last get a little away
from Mrs. Skelmersdale.
He perceived that when he came to tell his mother about this journey
around the world there would be great difficulties. She would
object very strongly, and if that did not do then she would become
extremely abusive, compare him to his father, cry bitterly, and
banish him suddenly and heartbrokenly from her presence for ever.
Pages:
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228