Oh, I don't mean the usual reaction from self-contempt, disgust--the dreadful, aching sadness of it all which lasts even while desire, stunned for the moment, wakens into craving.

I don't mean that.

It is something else--a deathly, mental solitude that terrifies.

I tell you, no man except a man smitten by my malady knows what solitude can be! ...

There! I didn't mean to be theatrical; I had no intention of--" "Go on," cut in Plank heavily.
"Go on! ...