human
You are ill,
gpt
Ill? he answered, in a strange, hard voice, strange even to his own ears.
human
Ill! Ay! ill unto death, and all the saints in heaven cannot save me.
gpt
Woman, he said,
human
See! he cried, grasping her suddenly by the shoulders so that she winced with pain.
gpt
See, I have sought to flee thee, I have sought to escape by every means in my power. Even now am I on my way to shut out the sight of thee in a cell at St. Dunstan's. I have prayed, and I have scourged and chastised myself--but all in vain, still it conquers me, it tortures me, this terrible power that from time immemorial hath been the snare and curse of man--the carnal love of woman.
human
I held myself, he continued,