第86部分

請關閉瀏覽器的閱讀/暢讀/小說模式並且關閉廣告遮蔽過濾功能，避免出現內容無法顯示或者段落錯亂。

departure。　She　had　in　her　some　fatal　prescience；　that　made　her

calm。　What　would　be；　would　be。

He　remained　fairly　easy；　however；　still　in　his　state　of

heightened　glamour；　till　she　had　gone；　and　he　had　turned　away

from　St。　Pancras；　and　sat　on　the　tram…car　going　up　Pimlico　to

the　〃Angel〃；　to　Moorgate　Street　on　Sunday　evening。

Then　the　cold　horror　gradually　soaked　into　him。　He　saw　the

horror　of　the　City　Road；　he　realized　the　ghastly　cold　sordidness

of　the　tram…car　in　which　he　sat。　Cold；　stark；　ashen　sterility

had　him　surrounded。　Where　then　was　the　luminous；　wonderful　world

he　belonged　to　by　rights？　How　did　he　e　to　be　thrown　on　this

refuse…heap　where　he　was？

He　was　as　if　mad。　The　horror　of　the　brick　buildings；　of　the

tram…car；　of　the　ashen…grey　people　in　the　street　made　him

reeling　and　blind　as　if　drunk。　He　went　mad。　He　had　lived　with

her　in　a　close；　living；　pulsing　world；　where　everything　pulsed

with　rich　being。　Now　he　found　himself　struggling　amid　an

ashen…dry；　cold　world　of　rigidity；　dead　walls　and　mechanical

traffic；　and　creeping；　spectre…like　people。　The　life　was

extinct；　only　ash　moved　and　stirred　or　stood　rigid；　there　was　a

horrible；　clattering　activity；　a　rattle　like　the　falling　of　dry

slag；　cold　and　sterile。　It　was　as　if　the　sunshine　that　fell　were

unnatural　light　exposing　the　ash　of　the　town；　as　if　the　lights

at　night　were　the　sinister　gleam　of　deposition。

Quite　mad；　beside　himself；　he　went　to　his　club　and　sat　with　a

glass　of　whisky；　motionless；　as　if　turned　to　clay。　He　felt　like

a　corpse　that　is　inhabited　with　just　enough　life　to　make　it

appear　as　any　other　of　the　spectra