He was not of the world. For a long time he had touched his fellow
man only at the gear of a levelled cog-wheel--at right angles, and
upon a different axis. He had dropped into a distinctly new orbit.
The stroke of ill fortune had acted upon him, in effect, as a blow
delivered upon the apex of a certain ingenious toy, the musical top,
which, when thus buffeted while spinning, gives forth, with scarcely
retarded motion, a complete change of key and chord.
Strolling along the pacific avenue, he experienced singular,
supernatural calm, accompanied by an unusual a activity of brain.
Reflecting upon recent affairs, he assured himself of his happiness in
having won for a bride the one he had so greatly desired, yet he
wondered mildly at his dearth of active emotion. Her strange
behaviour in abandoning him without valid excuse on his bridal eve
aroused in him only a vague and curious speculation. Again, he found
himself contemplating, with complaisant serenity, the incidents of her
somewhat lively career. His perspective seemed to have been queerly
shifted.
As he stood before a window near a corner, his ears were assailed by a
waxing clamour and commotion. He stood close to the window to allow
passage to the cause of the hubbub--a procession of human beings,
which rounded the corner and headed in his direction.
Pages:
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290