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He says lives are the pathway of life, just as you do. But he says it's not just life, it's either God or beasts that walk along it and we've to help God kill the beasts so as to leave the pathway clear for Him. It means the same, but your way of saying it is so so ungodly." "I know. But there it is. The way I talk is the way Kraill and his school talk. Of course, there's something in it.
Will you talk to me out of the thunders, Professor Kraill?" He looked at her for a moment, recalling the rather heart-breaking calmness and common-sense with which she had soothed Louis a while ago; he remembered her cool, patient logic in the midst of the drunken man's ravings and he decided in a flash of insight that this rather rhetorical way of talking to him was very real to her.
And next day you'll be whining about it. I've lost hope now. I'm tired, tired of to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow." Kraill's eyes were on her. The echo of a cock that crowed outside a door in Jerusalem nineteen hundred years ago came to her and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh I'm so sorry! You asked me for my courage," she said to Kraill.
Through the trellis window came sounds of a soft voice and a wild one mingling. Louis, when he had got over his amazement at hearing that Kraill was his guest, tried frantically to pull himself together.
She felt that he was safe now; she felt that the boy was safe; she felt that in everyone on earth who was sick and sad and unhappy was the capacity for safety. But she did not know how they might come by it. But she knew, incontrovertibly, that she could never love Louis again with any degree of happiness or self-satisfaction. That much Kraill had shown her.
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