'Why, it wasn't you, old fellow!--it was your body.' Aubrey could not reply.

He hid his face in his hands.

The effort of his own words had shaken him from top to toe.

To no human being had he ever breathed what he had just told his young brother.

Life seemed broken--disorganized.
Desmond was apparently watching the passage of a flock of white south-westerly clouds across the morning sky.