Why limping? I
don't know. That's how I see it. One has a notion of a maiming,
crippling process; of the individual coming back damaged in some subtle
way. I admit it is a fantastic hallucination, but I can't help it. Of
course I know that the proceedings of the best machine-made humanity are
employed with judicious care and so on. I am absurd, no doubt, but still
. . . Oh yes it's idiotic. When I pass one of these places . . . did you
notice that there is something infernal about the aspect of every
individual stone or brick of them, something malicious as if matter were
enjoying its revenge of the contemptuous spirit of man. Did you notice?
You didn't? Eh? Well I am perhaps a little mad on that point. When I
pass one of these places I must avert my eyes. I couldn't have gone to
meet de Barral. I should have shrunk from the ordeal. You'll notice
that it looks as if Anthony (a brave man indubitably) had shirked it too.
Little Fyne's flight of fancy picturing three people in the fatal four
wheeler--you remember?--went wide of the truth. There were only two
people in the four wheeler.
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