Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. I am come to rescue you from Wild's violence. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. You on the other hand have to come to London, a worker, with the responsibility of life upon your own shoulders—and in addition all the burden of her follies. ” She laid her fingers upon his arm, and they both stood still. She surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by.
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