It was a
great ironic scheme of punishment by which every man was
chained to his own vice--by which the thing he had gone to
pieces over, instead of being denied him, was made compulsory.
You can't imagine it." He shivered nervously and his voice
rose. "Fancy being satiated beyond the limit of satiety,
being driven and dogged by the thing you had run after all
your life!"
He paused excitedly, and in the pause Loder found resolution.
He shut his ears to the panic in Chilcote's voice, he closed
his consciousness to the sight of his shaken face. With a
surge of determination he rallied his theories. After all, he
had himself and his own interests to claim his thought. At
the moment Chilcote was a wreck, with no desire towards
rehabilitation; but there was no guarantee that in an hour or
two he might not have regained control over himself, and with
it the inclination that had prompted his letter of the day
before. No; he had himself to look to. The survival of the
fittest was the true, the only principle.
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