Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. But Jonathan, fixing a terrible look upon him, cried. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects.
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