"I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. So there is no escape. In a sense it alters nothing. . I am going to ask him to finish it. ’ ‘Comment? But already he has made this visit—in town. All right. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. They were delighted. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. I seek chaos, but not out of choice.
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