More often then not he refused to reveal specifics of his own past in Greece and Rome, choosing to relate fables and stories of an impersonal nature. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. You are captain of your soul; don't forget your Henley. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. ” “And for me,” Anna echoed.
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