His wits had come unscathed through the furnaces of hot suns, of blazing deserts, of flaming angers against the weaknesses of men and the obstinate cruelties of hostile nature.
Being sane he had to be constantly on his guard against falling into adoring silences or breaking out into wild speeches.

He had to keep watch on his eyes, his limbs, on the muscles of his face.

Their conversations were such as they could be between these two people: she a young lady fresh from the thick twilight of four million people and the artificiality of several London seasons; he the man of definite conquering tasks, the familiar of wide horizons, and in his very repose holding aloof from these agglomerations of units in which one loses one's importance even to oneself.

They had no common conversational small change.

They had to use the great pieces of general ideas, but they exchanged them trivially.