I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. His tone was rough, almost threatening. “A claim,” he continued, “which I am quite prepared to recognize. “Your coffee’s too good to refuse. “Let’s go home. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. Quick, now. ” They talked for a while in somewhat dreamy fashion, Anna especially being more silent than usual. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life.
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