And now, he 's worshipped for his pains, the sneak!"
"Well, but your turning-point of life,—what 's here
To hinder you contesting Finsbury
With Orton, next election? I don't see" ...
"Not you! But I see. Slowly, surely, creeps
Day by day o'er me the conviction—here
Was life's prize grasped at, gained, and then let go!
—That with her—maybe, for her—I had felt
Ice in me melt, grow steam, drive to effect
Any or all the fancies sluggish here