The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. You must come and tell me all about it, although I am not sure whether we shall forgive you for not having written to any of us. . The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. " "Graves. In the middle there was a gate. And not only did these tentacular generalizations gather all the facts of natural history and comparative anatomy together, but they seemed always stretching out further and further into a world of interests that lay altogether outside their legitimate bounds. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash.
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