human
Does he come, Miss Bingham?
gpt
Is all forgot, then, Mr. Blake? There was a time in Knaresborough, at the ferry-steps, when you thought kindly of me.
human
There was. I ask you for some explanation of the madness. To my shame, the memory came and weakened me years after—when I found myself in Oxford, to be precise, and heard the nightingales. Answer the riddle. How can a thing so slight and empty hinder a grown man?
gpt
You are bitter, unforgiving.
human
Neither. I’ve ridden too many evil roads to remember bitterness. It is simply that I’m tired and filled with wonder. Tell me why Oxford and the nightingales opened an old wound afresh.
gpt
It goes back to Eve’s days, I think,
human
Ay, find other shoulders for the blame,
gpt
As Adam did.