Damn all marriage! Damn all free love! God damn to hell all women!
I thought of many ways of committing suicide. But I only thought of them.
I flung out into the night, meaning to go and tell Mrs. Rond of the incredible doom that had fallen upon me, the unspeakable betrayal.
"Poor Penton!" I cried. "Poor Penton!"
At last I sympathised fully with him.
Ashamed, in my slowly gathering new man's pride, I did not go in to see Mrs. Rond. Instead, I drove past her house with that curious, bent-kneed walk of mine,—and I walked and walked, not heeding the cold, till the ocean shouldered, phosphorescent, in the enormous night toward me.
Home again, I slept like a drunkard. It was broad day when I woke.