She had to school herself to speak the words which she knew would cut him like a knife. He was now almost driven to despair. The one nearest to her, which must lead to the library. ‘I dare say the best plan will be for me to bring her to see you, after all. I am not come here to play the part of your father-confessor. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. I can't invent; the thing won't come. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger.
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