They went on in that strange bound way, and the day drew
away from them till they turned a sudden corner, when it
lay all along the yellow sky across the river, behind a
fringe of winter woods, stayed in the moment of its
retreat on the edge of unvexed landscape. They stopped
involuntarily to look, and she saw a smile come up from
some depth in him.
"Ah, well," he said, as if to himself, "it's something
to be in a country where the sun still goes down with a
thought of the primaeval."
"I think I prefer the sophistication of chimney-pots,"
she replied. "I've always longed to see a sunset in
London, with the fog breaking over Westminster."
"Then you don't care about them for themselves, sunsets?"
he asked, with the simplest absence of mind.
"I never yet could see the sun go down, But I was angry
in my heart," she said, and this time he looked at her.
"How does it go on?" he said.
"Oh, I don't know. Only those two lines stay with me. I
feel it that way, too. It's the seal upon an act of
violence, isn't it, a sunset? Something taken from us
against our will. It's a hateful reminder, in the midst
of our delightful volitions, of how arbitrary every
condition of life is."
"The conditions of business are always arbitrary. Life
is a business--we have to work at ourselves till it is
over.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115