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” “And he sat at my table,” Annabel said bitterly, “and yet he did not know me. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. That is why I ask you. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it.
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