At last his voice came to release her tension. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. We fixed that. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. ‘It is all too probable that she would wish to change into lay clothing to escape recognition. “To Hell if we don’t change our ways. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Like carpenter, like chips. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become.
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