It’s just life, pure life, life nascent, running clear and strong. . During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. I am an independent sort of person,” she continued, “and I am engaged in an attempt to earn my own living. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone.
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