He glanced up. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine. “Aren’t we all just odds and ends of humanity —the left-overs, you know. ’ ‘What?’ Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding. ‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. don’t have time. He listened. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened.
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