Why, even the earth sometimes seemed to him very deep; not carved into hills and cities and fields, but heaped in great masses.

He would look out of the window for ten minutes at a time; but no, he did not care for the earth swept of human beings.

He liked human beings--he liked them, he suspected, better than Rachel did.

There she was, swaying enthusiastically over her music, quite forgetful of him,--but he liked that quality in her.

He liked the impersonality which it produced in her.