“It was not necessary,” Sir John answered stiffly. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. Then came the shock of the knowledge that soon he would be going upon his way, that there would be no one to depend upon her; and all the old loneliness came smothering down upon her again. “It’s a flabby, loose-willed world we have to face. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. “To think that you were going to do it—and never said a word! You are a little thin, but except for that you look—you look better than ever. You seemed complete—without that. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. You’re a lady all right and tight, and nothing anyone does can take that away from you. ” “It might become one,” he answered. And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. Every word you utter puzzles me.
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