“I love your sister. “You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Men fled from their tottering habitations, and returned to them scared by greater dangers. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her.
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