glance from his interlocutor's face of wretchedness to
the touring costume he wore.

"That is what I have tried. Unwisely perhaps. I
have followed the coast, day after day -- from New
Quay. It has only added muscular fatigue to the mental.
The cause of this unrest was overwork -- trouble.
There was something --"

He stopped as if from sheer fatigue. He rubbed his
forehead with a lean hand. He resumed speech like
one who talks to himself.

"I am a lone wolf, a solitary man, wandering
through a world in which I have no part. I am wifeless --
childless -- who is it speaks of the childless as
the dead twigs on the tree of life? I am wifeless,
I childless -- I could find no duty to do. No desire
even in my heart. One thing at last I set myself to do.

"I said, I will do this, and to do it, to overcome
the inertia of this dull body, I resorted to drugs. Great
God, I've had enough of drugs! I don't know if _you_
feel the heavy inconvenience of the body, its
exasperating demand of time from the mind -- time --
life! Live! We only live in patches. We have
to eat, and then comes the dull digestive complacencies --
or irritations. We have to take the air or else
our thoughts grow sluggish, stupid, run into gulfs
and blind alleys. A thousand distractions arise from