I read it through once again very carefully before I replied. Somehow I felt the meaning of it right enough, but to explain it to Severn was another matter. Nor was I at all sure that I would explain it, even if I could. I said at last: "I think it shows the state of his mind more than anything else."
"Do you mean that he's off his head?"
"Oh, no—not that, by any means."
"Then what?"
"I don't know that I can tell you exactly.... It seems to me that he's in a sort of slough of despond—he's overworked and over-worried himself into a state of acute mental and spiritual depression—do you know what I mean? I can imagine he's on the verge of anything—he might suddenly take to drink, or religion, or fall headlong into some love affair, or even kill himself.... Or, of course, he might—and probably will—just do nothing at all."
Severn laughed. "Your explanation is even more bewildering than Terry himself."
"I daresay it is. It's hard to put into a sentence something that could only be properly explained by giving you the whole history of the man's life."
"All right. Give it to me. I've heaps of time to listen."
"I'm afraid it would take too long.... Oughtn't we to be joining the ladies?"
"Oh, never mind the ladies. For the moment they aren't half as interesting as Terry.... You said just now that the true explanation of him is in his life-history?"