The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. Some had the dignity and the aloofness of a rock in the sea; and others were as the polished pebbles on the sands—one saw the difference of pebble from pebble only by close scrutiny. ’ ‘You see? Not to be trusted,’ Hilary uttered disgustedly. " "He'll be hanged nevertheless," replied the Hollander, giving his collar an ugly jerk. “It may not be just and so forth, but, after all, it is how things are.
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