There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Cut it as short as you can. But I give you this warning, and let it sink in. . The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice.
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