"I alone am to blame. ” He returned to and developed that idea. “Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child. What’s that?” They both stood listening. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. "I don't think that's likely.
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