第9章
"Whatluck！"criedJon。"ItJammed。"
"Yes，"saidFleur;"Iwasholdingit。"
Thetrainmovedout，andJonfellonhisknees。
"Lookoutforthecorridor，"shewhispered;"and——quick！"
Herlipsmethis。Andthoughtheirkissonlylastedperhapstenseconds，Jon’ssoullefthisbodyandwentsofarbeyond，that，whenhewasagainsittingoppositethatdemurefigure，hewaspaleasdeath。Heheardhersigh，andthesoundseemedtohimthemostprecioushehadeverheard——anexquisitedeclarationthathemeantsomethingtoher。
"Sixweeksisn’treallylong，"shesaid;"andyoucaneasilymakeitsixifyoukeepyourheadoutthere，andneverseemtothinkofme。"
Jongasped。
"Thisisjustwhat’sreallywanted，Jon，toconvincethem，don’tyousee？Ifwe’rejustasbadwhenyoucomebackthey’llstopbeingridiculousaboutit。Only，I’msorryit’snotSpain;there’sagirlinaGoyapictureatMadridwho’slikeme，Fathersays。Onlysheisn’t——we’vegotacopyofher。"
ItwastoJonlikearayofsunshinepiercingthroughafog。"I’llmakeitSpain，"hesaid，"Motherwon’tmind;she’sneverbeenthere。
AndmyFatherthinksalotofGoya。"
"Oh！yes，he’sapainter——isn’the？"
"Onlywater—colour，"saidJon，withhonesty。
"WhenwecometoReading，Jon，getoutfirstandgodowntoCavershamlockandwaitforme。I’llsendthecarhomeandwe’llwalkbythetowing—path。"
Jonseizedherhandingratitude，andtheysatsilent，withtheworldwelllost，andoneeyeonthecorridor。Butthetrainseemedtoruntwiceasfastnow，anditssoundwasalmostlostinthatofJon’ssighing。
"We’regettingnear，"saidFleur;"thetowing—path’sawfullyexposed。
Onemore！Oh！Jon，don’tforgetme。"
Jonansweredwithhiskiss。Andverysoon，aflushed，distracted—
lookingyouthcouldhavebeenseen——astheysay——leapingfromthetrainandhurryingalongtheplatform，searchinghispocketsforhisticket。
Whenatlastsherejoinedhimonthetowing—pathalittlebeyondCavershamlockhehadmadeaneffort，andregainedsomemeasureofequanimity。Iftheyhadtopart，hewouldnotmakeascene！A
breezebythebrightriverthrewthewhitesideofthewillowleavesupintothesunlight，andfollowedthosetwowithitsfaintrustle。
"ItoldourchauffeurthatIwastrain—giddy，"saidFleur。"Didyoulookprettynaturalasyouwentout？"
"Idon’tknow。Whatisnatural？"
"It’snaturaltoyoutolookseriouslyhappy。WhenIfirstsawyouI
thoughtyouweren’tabitlikeotherpeople。"
"ExactlywhatIthoughtwhenIsawyou。IknewatonceIshouldneverloveanybodyelse。"
Fleurlaughed。
"We’reabsurdlyyoung。Andlove’syoungdreamisoutofdate，Jon。
Besides，it’sawfullywasteful。Thinkofallthefunyoumighthave。
Youhaven’tbegun，even;it’sashame，really。Andthere’sme。I
wonder！"
ConfusioncameonJon’sspirit。Howcouldshesaysuchthingsjustastheyweregoingtopart？
"Ifyoufeellikethat，"hesaid，"Ican’tgo。IshalltellMotherthatIoughttotryandwork。There’salwaystheconditionoftheworld！"
"Theconditionoftheworld！"
Jonthrusthishandsdeepintohispockets。
"Butthereis，"hesaid;"thinkofthepeoplestarving！"
Fleurshookherhead。"No，no，Inever，neverwillmakemyselfmiserablefornothing。"
"Nothing！Butthere’sanawfulstateofthings，andofcourseoneoughttohelp。"
"Oh！yes，Iknowallthat。Butyoucan’thelppeople，Jon;they’rehopeless。Whenyoupullthemouttheyonlygetintoanotherhole。
Lookatthem，stillfightingandplottingandstruggling，thoughthey’redyinginheapsallthetime。Idiots！"
"Aren’tyousorryforthem？"
"Oh！sorry——yes，butI’mnotgoingtomakemyselfunhappyaboutit;
that’snogood。"
Andtheyweresilent，disturbedbythisfirstglimpseofeachother’snatures。
"Ithinkpeoplearebrutesandidiots，"saidFleurstubbornly。
"Ithinkthey’repoorwretches，"saidJon。Itwasasiftheyhadquarrelled——andatthissupremeandawfulmoment，withpartingvisibleoutthereinthatlastgapofthewillows！
"Well，goandhelpyourpoorwretches，anddon’tthinkofme。"
Jonstoodstill。Sweatbrokeoutonhisforehead，andhislimbstrembled。Fleurtoohadstopped，andwasfrowningattheriver。
"Imustbelieveinthings，"saidJonwithasortofagony;"we’reallmeanttoenjoylife。"
Fleurlaughed。"Yes;andthat’swhatyouwon’tdo，ifyoudon’ttakecare。Butperhapsyourideaofenjoymentistomakeyourselfwretched。Therearelotsofpeoplelikethat，ofcourse。"
Shewaspale，hereyeshaddarkened，herlipshadthinned。WasitFleurthusstaringatthewater？Jonhadanunrealfeelingasifhewerepassingthroughthesceneinabookwheretheloverhastochoosebetweenloveandduty。Butjustthenshelookedroundathim。
Neverwasanythingsointoxicatingasthatvivaciouslook。Itactedonhimexactlyasthetugofachainactsonadog——broughthimuptoherwithhistailwaggingandhistongueout。
"Don’tlet’sbesilly，"shesaid，"time’stooshort。Look，Jon，youcanjustseewhereI’vegottocrosstheriver。There，roundthebend，wherethewoodsbegin。"
Jonsawagable，achimneyortwo，apatchofwallthroughthetrees—
—andfelthisheartsink。
"Imustn’tdawdleanymore。It’snogoodgoingbeyondthenexthedge，itgetsallopen。Let’sgetontoitandsaygood—bye。"
Theywentsidebyside，handinhand，silentlytowardthehedge，wherethemay—flower，bothpinkandwhite，wasinfullbloom。
"MyClub’sthe’Talisman，’StrattonStreet，Piccadilly。Letterstherewillbequitesafe，andI’malmostalwaysuponceaweek。"
Jonnodded。Hisfacehadbecomeextremelyset，hiseyesstaredstraightbeforehim。
"To—day’sthetwenty—thirdofMay，"saidFleur;"ontheninthofJulyIshallbeinfrontofthe’BacchusandAriadne’atthreeo’clock;
willyou？"
"Iwill。"
"IfyoufeelasbadasIit’sallright。Letthosepeoplepass！"
AmanandwomanairingtheirchildrenwentbystrungoutinSundayfashion。
Thelastofthempassedthewicketgate。
"Domesticity！"saidFleur，andblottedherselfagainstthehawthornhedge。Theblossomsprayedoutaboveherhead，andonepinkclusterbrushedhercheek。Jonputuphishandjealouslytokeepitoff。
"Good—bye，Jon。"Forasecondtheystoodwithhandshardclasped。
Thentheirlipsmetforthethirdtime，andwhentheypartedFleurbrokeawayandfledthroughthewicketgate。Jonstoodwhereshehadlefthim，withhisforeheadagainstthatpinkcluster。Gone！Foraneternity——forsevenweeksallbuttwodays！Andherehewas，wastingthelastsightofher！Herushedtothegate。Shewaswalkingswiftlyontheheelsofthestragglingchildren。Sheturnedherhead，hesawherhandmakealittleflittinggesture;thenshespedon，andthetrailingfamilyblottedheroutfromhisview。
Thewordsofacomicsong——
"Paddingtongroan—worsteverknown——
HegaveasepulchralPaddingtongroan——"
cameintohishead，andhespedincontinentlybacktoReadingstation。AllthewayuptoLondonanddowntoWansdonhesatwith"TheHeartoftheTrail"openonhisknee，knittinginhisheadapoemsofulloffeelingthatitwouldnotrhyme。
XII
CAPRICE
Fleurspedon。Shehadneedofrapidmotion;shewaslate，andwantedallherwitsaboutherwhenshegotin。Shepassedtheislands，thestation，andhotel，andwasabouttotaketheferry，whenshesawaskiffwithayoungmanstandingupinit，andholdingtothebushes。
"MissForsyte，"hesaid;"letmeputyouacross。I’vecomeonpurpose。"
Shelookedathiminblankamazement。
"It’sallright，I’vebeenhavingteawithyourpeople。IthoughtI’dsaveyouthelastbit。It’sonmyway，I’mjustoffbacktoPangbourne。Myname’sMont。Isawyouatthepicture—gallery——youremember——whenyourfatherinvitedmetoseehispictures。"
"Oh！"saidFleur;"yes——thehandkerchief。"
TothisyoungmansheowedJon;and，takinghishand，shesteppeddownintotheskiff。Stillemotional，andalittleoutofbreath，shesatsilent;notsotheyoungman。Shehadneverheardanyonesaysomuchinsoshortatime。Hetoldherhisage，twenty—four;
hisweight，tenstoneeleven;hisplaceofresidence，notfaraway;
describedhissensationsunderfire，andwhatitfeltliketobegassed;criticizedtheJuno，mentionedhisownconceptionofthatgoddess;commentedontheGoyacopy，saidFleurwasnottooawfullylikeit;sketchedinrapidlytheconditionofEngland;spokeofMonsieurProfond——orwhateverhisnamewas——as"anawfulsport";
thoughtherfatherhadsome"ripping"picturesandsomerather"dug—
up";hopedhemightrowdownagainandtakeherontheriverbecausehewasquitetrustworthy;inquiredheropinionofTchekov，gaveherhisown;wishedtheycouldgototheRussianballettogethersometime——consideredthenameFleurForsytesimplytopping;cursedhispeopleforgivinghimthenameofMichaelonthetopofMont;
outlinedhisfather，andsaidthatifshewantedagoodbooksheshouldread"Job";hisfatherwasratherlikeJobwhileJobstillhadland。
"ButJobdidn’thaveland，"Fleurmurmured;"heonlyhadflocksandherdsandmovedon。"
"Ah！"answeredMichaelMont，"Iwishmygov’norwouldmoveon。NotthatIwanthisland。Land’sanawfulboreinthesedays，don’tyouthink？"
"Weneverhaveitinmyfamily，"saidFleur。"Wehaveeverythingelse。Ibelieveoneofmygreat—unclesoncehadasentimentalfarminDorset，becausewecamefromthereoriginally，butitcosthimmorethanitmadehimhappy。"
"Didhesellit？"
"No;hekeptit。"
"Why？"
"Becausenobodywouldbuyit。"
"Goodfortheoldboy！"
"No，itwasn’tgoodforhim。Fathersaysitsouredhim。HisnamewasSwithin。"
"Whatacorkingname！"
"Doyouknowthatwe’regettingfartheroff，notnearer？Thisriverflows。"
"Splendid！"criedMont，dippinghisscullsvaguely;"it’sgoodtomeetagirlwho’sgotwit。"
"Butbettertomeetayoungmanwho’sgotitintheplural。"
YoungMontraisedahandtotearhishair。
"Lookout！"criedFleur。"Yourscull！"
"Allright！It’sthickenoughtobearascratch。"
"Doyoumindsculling？"saidFleurseverely。"Iwanttogetin。"
"Ah！"saidMont;"butwhenyougetin，yousee，Ishan’tseeyouanymoreto—day。Fini，astheFrenchgirlsaidwhenshejumpedonherbedaftersayingherprayers。Don’tyoublessthedaythatgaveyouaFrenchmother，andanamelikeyours？"
"Ilikemyname，butFathergaveitme。MotherwantedmecalledMarguerite。"
"Whichisabsurd。DoyoumindcallingmeM。M。andlettingmecallyouF。F。？It’sinthespiritoftheage。"
"Idon’tmindanything，solongasIgetin。"
Montcaughtalittlecrab，andanswered:"Thatwasanastyone！"
"Pleaserow。"
"Iam。"Andhedidforseveralstrokes，lookingatherwithruefuleagerness。"Ofcourse，youknow，"heejaculated，pausing，"thatI
cametoseeyou，notyourfather’spictures。"
Fleurrose。
"Ifyoudon’trow，Ishallgetoutandswim。"
"Reallyandtruly？ThenIcouldcomeinafteryou。"
"Mr。Mont，I’mlateandtired;pleaseputmeonshoreatonce。"
Whenshesteppedoutontothegardenlanding—stageherose，andgraspinghishairwithbothhands，lookedather。
Fleursmiled。
"Don’t！"criedtheirrepressibleMont。"Iknowyou’regoingtosay:
’Out，damnedhair！’"
Fleurwhiskedround，threwhimawaveofherhand。"Good—bye，Mr。
M。M。！"shecalled，andwasgoneamongtherose—trees。Shelookedatherwrist—watchandthewindowsofthehouse。Itstruckherascuriouslyuninhabited。Pastsix！Thepigeonswerejustgatheringtoroost，andsunlightslantedonthedovecot，ontheirsnowyfeathers，andbeyondinashoweronthetopboughsofthewoods。Theclickofbilliard—ballscamefromtheingle—nook——JackCardigan，nodoubt;afaintrustling，too，fromaneucalyptus—tree，startlingSouthernerinthisoldEnglishgarden。Shereachedtheverandahandwaspassingin，butstoppedatthesoundofvoicesfromthedrawing—roomtoherleft。Mother！MonsieurProfond！Frombehindtheverandahscreenwhichfencedtheingle—nooksheheardthesewords:
"Idon’t，Annette。"
DidFatherknowthathecalledhermother"Annette"？AlwaysonthesideofherFather——aschildrenareeverononesideortheotherinhouseswhererelationsarealittlestrained——shestood，uncertain。
Hermotherwasspeakinginherlow，pleasing，slightlymetallicvoice——onewordshecaught:"Demain。"AndProfond’sanswer:"Allright。"Fleurfrowned。Alittlesoundcameoutintothestillness。
ThenProfond’svoice:"I’mtakin’asmallstroll。"
Fleurdartedthroughthewindowintothemorning—room。Therehecamefromthedrawing—room，crossingtheverandah，downthelawn;andtheclickofbilliard—ballswhich，inlisteningforothersounds，shehadceasedtohear，beganagain。Sheshookherself，passedintothehall，andopenedthedrawing—roomdoor。Hermotherwassittingonthesofabetweenthewindows，herkneescrossed，herheadrestingonacushion，herlipshalfparted，hereyeshalfclosed。Shelookedextraordinarilyhandsome。
"Ah！Hereyouare，Fleur！Yourfatherisbeginningtofuss。"
"Whereishe？"
"Inthepicture—gallery。Goup！"
"Whatareyougoingtodoto—morrow，Mother？"
"To—morrow？IgouptoLondonwithyouraunt。"
"Ithoughtyoumightbe。Willyougetmeaquiteplainparasol？"
Whatcolour？"
"Green。They’reallgoingback，Isuppose。"
"Yes，all;youwillconsoleyourfather。Kissme，then。"
Fleurcrossedtheroom，stooped，receivedakissonherforehead，andwentoutpasttheimpressofaformonthesofa—cushionsintheothercorner。Sheranup—stairs。
Fleurwasbynomeanstheold—fashioneddaughterwhodemandstheregulationofherparents’livesinaccordancewiththestandardimposeduponherself。Sheclaimedtoregulateherownlife，notthoseofothers;besides，anunerringinstinctforwhatwaslikelytoadvantageherowncasewasalreadyatwork。InadisturbeddomesticatmospheretheheartshehadsetonJonwouldhaveabetterchance。
Nonethelesswassheoffended，asaflowerbyacrispingwind。Ifthatmanhadreallybeenkissinghermotheritwas——serious，andherfatheroughttoknow。"Demain！""Allright！"AndhermothergoinguptoTown！Sheturnedintoherbedroomandhungoutofthewindowtocoolherface，whichhadsuddenlygrownveryhot。Jonmustbeatthestationbynow！WhatdidherfatherknowaboutJon？Probablyeverything——prettynearly！
Shechangedherdress，soastolookasifshehadbeeninsometime，andranuptothegallery。
SoameswasstandingstubbornlystillbeforehisAlfredStevens——thepicturehelovedbest。Hedidnotturnatthesoundofthedoor，butsheknewhehadheard，andsheknewhewashurt。Shecameupsoftlybehindhim，putherarmsroundhisneck，andpokedherfaceoverhisshouldertillhercheeklayagainsthis。Itwasanadvancewhichhadneveryetfailed，butitfailedhernow，andsheauguredtheworst。
"Well，"hesaidstonily，"soyou’vecome！"
"Isthatall，"murmuredFleur，"fromabadparent？"Andsherubbedhercheekagainsthis。
Soamesshookhisheadsofarasthatwaspossible。
"Whydoyoukeepmeontenterhookslikethis，puttingmeoffandoff？"
"Darling，itwasveryharmless。"
"Harmless！Muchyouknowwhat’sharmlessandwhatisn’t。"
Fleurdroppedherarms。
"Well，then，dear，supposeyoutellme;andbequitefrankaboutit。"
Andshewentovertothewindow—seat。
Herfatherhadturnedfromhispicture，andwasstaringathisfeet。
Helookedverygrey。’Hehasnicesmallfeet，’shethought，catchinghiseye，atonceavertedfromher。
"You’remyonlycomfort，"saidSoamessuddenly，"andyougoonlikethis。"
Fleur’sheartbegantobeat。
"Likewhat，dear？"
AgainSoamesgaveheralookwhich，butfortheaffectioninit，mighthavebeencalledfurtive。
"YouknowwhatItoldyou，"hesaid。"Idon’tchoosetohaveanythingtodowiththatbranchofourfamily。"
"Yes，ducky，butIdon’tknowwhyIshouldn’t。
Soamesturnedonhisheel。
"I’mnotgoingintothereasons，"hesaid;"yououghttotrustme，Fleur！"
ThewayhespokethosewordsaffectedFleur，butshethoughtofJon，andwassilent，tappingherfootagainstthewainscot。Unconsciouslyshehadassumedamodernattitude，withonelegtwistedinandoutoftheother，withherchinononebentwrist，herotherarmacrossherchest，anditshandhuggingherelbow;therewasnotalineofherthatwasnotinvoluted，andyet——inspiteofall——sheretainedacertaingrace。
"Youknewmywishes，"Soameswenton，"andyetyoustayedontherefourdays。AndIsupposethatboycamewithyouto—day。"
Fleurkepthereyesonhim。
"Idon’taskyouanything，"saidSoames;"Imakenoinquisitionwhereyou’reconcerned。"
Fleursuddenlystoodup，leaningoutatthewindowwithherchinonherhands。Thesunhadsunkbehindtrees，thepigeonswereperched，quitestill，ontheedgeofthedove—cot;theclickofthebilliard—
ballsmounted，andafaintradianceshoneoutbelowwhereJackCardiganhadturnedthelightup。
"Willitmakeyouanyhappier，"shesaidsuddenly，"ifIpromiseyounottoseehimforsay——thenextsixweeks？"Shewasnotpreparedforasortoftrembleintheblanknessofhisvoice。
"Sixweeks？Sixyears——sixtyyearsmorelike。Don’tdeludeyourself，Fleur;don’tdeludeyourself！"
Fleurturnedinalarm。
"Father，whatisit？"
Soamescamecloseenoughtoseeherface。
"Don’ttellme，"hesaid，"thatyou’refoolishenoughtohaveanyfeelingbeyondcaprice。Thatwouldbetoomuch！"Andhelaughed。
Fleur，whohadneverheardhimlaughlikethat，thought:’Thenitisdeep！Oh！whatisit？’Andputtingherhandthroughhisarmshesaidlightly:
"No，ofcourse;caprice。Only，IlikemycapricesandIdon’tlikeyours，dear。"
"Mine！"saidSoamesbitterly，andturnedaway。
Thelightoutsidehadchilled，andthrewachalkywhitenessontheriver。Thetreeshadlostallgaietyofcolour。ShefeltasuddenhungerforJon’sface，forhishands，andthefeelofhislipsagainonhers。Andpressingherarmstightacrossherbreastsheforcedoutalittlelightlaugh。
"Ola！la！Whatasmallfuss！asProfondwouldsay。Father，Idon’tlikethatman。"
Shesawhimstop，andtakesomethingoutofhisbreastpocket。
"Youdon’t？"hesaid。"Why？"
"Nothing，"murmuredFleur;"justcaprice！"
"No，"saidSoames;"notcaprice！"Andhetorewhatwasinhishandsacross。"You’reright。Idon’tlikehimeither！"
"Look！"saidFleursoftly。"Therehegoes！Ihatehisshoes;theydon’tmakeanynoise。"
DowninthefailinglightProsperProfondmoved，hishandsinhissidepockets，whistlingsoftlyinhisbeard;hestopped，andglancedupatthesky，asifsaying:"Idon’tthinkmuchofthatsmallmoon。"
Fleurdrewback。"Isn’theagreatcat？"shewhispered;andthesharpclickofthebilliard—ballsrose，asifJackCardiganhadcappedthecat，themoon，caprice，andtragedywith:"Inoffthered！"
MonsieurProfondhadresumedhisstroll，toateasinglittletuneinhisbeard。Whatwasit？Oh！yes，from"Rigoletto":"Donnaamobile。"Justwhathewouldthink！Shesqueezedherfather’sarm。
"Prowling！"shemuttered，asheturnedthecornerofthehouse。Itwaspastthatdisillusionedmomentwhichdividesthedayandnight—
stillandlingeringandwarm，withhawthornscentandlilacscentclingingontheriversideair。Ablackbirdsuddenlyburstout。JonwouldbeinLondonbynow;intheParkperhaps，crossingtheSerpentine，thinkingofher！Alittlesoundbesidehermadeherturnhereyes;herfatherwasagaintearingthepaperinhishands。Fleursawitwasacheque。
"Ishan’tsellhimmyGauguin，"hesaid。"Idon’tknowwhatyourauntandImogenseeinhim。"
"OrMother。"
"Yourmother！"saidSoames。
’PoorFather！’shethought。’Heneverlookshappy——notreallyhappy。
Idon’twanttomakehimworse，butofcourseIshallhaveto，whenJoncomesback。Oh！well，sufficientuntothenight！’
"I’mgoingtodress，"shesaid。
Inherroomshehadafancytoputonher"freak"dress。Itwasofgoldtissuewithlittletrousersofthesame，tightlydrawninattheankles，apage’scapeslungfromtheshoulders，littlegoldshoes，andagold—wingedMercuryhelmet;andalloverherweretinygoldbells，especiallyonthehelmet;sothatifsheshookherheadshepealed。WhenshewasdressedshefeltquitesickbecauseJoncouldnotseeher;itevenseemedapitythatthesprightlyyoungmanMichaelMontwouldnothaveaview。Butthegonghadsounded，andshewentdown。
Shemadeasensationinthedrawing—room。Winifredthoughtit"Mostamusing。"Imogenwasenraptured。JackCardigancalledit"stunning，""ripping，""topping，"and"corking。
MonsieurProfond，smilingwithhiseyes，said:"That’sanicesmalldress！"Hermother，veryhandsomeinblack，satlookingather，andsaidnothing。Itremainedforherfathertoapplythetestofcommonsense。"Whatdidyouputonthatthingfor？You’renotgoingtodance。"
Fleurspunround，andthebellspealed。
"Caprice！"
Soamesstaredather，and，turningaway，gavehisarmtoWinifred。
JackCardigantookhermother。ProsperProfondtookImogen。Fleurwentinbyherself，withherbellsjingling……
The"small"moonhadsoondroppeddown，andMaynighthadfallensoftandwarm，enwrappingwithitsgrape—bloomcolouranditsscentsthebillioncaprices，intrigues，passions，longings，andregretsofmenandwomen。HappywasJackCardiganwhosnoredintoImogen’swhiteshoulder，fitasaflea;orTimothyinhis"mausoleum，"toooldforanythingbutbaby’sslumber。Forsomanylayawake，ordreamed，teasedbythecriss—crossoftheworld。
Thedewfellandtheflowersclosed;cattlegrazedonintherivermeadows，feelingwiththeirtonguesforthegrasstheycouldnotsee;
andthesheepontheDownslayquietasstones。PheasantsinthetalltreesofthePangbournewoods，larksontheirgrassynestsabovethegravel—pitatWansdon，swallowsintheeavesatRobinHill，andthesparrowsofMayfair，allmadeadreamlessnightofit，soothedbythelackofwind。TheMayflyfilly，hardlyaccustomedtohernewquarters，scrapedatherstrawalittle;andthefewnight—flittingthings——bats，moths，owls——werevigorousinthewarmdarkness;butthepeaceofnightlayinthebrainofallday—timeNature，colourlessandstill。Menandwomen，alone，ridingthehobby—horsesofanxietyorlove，burnedtheirwaveringtapersofdreamandthoughtintothelonelyhours。