"It's too late," he said judicially, flicking off his ash.
"So?
Well, I'm sorry, frankly--sorry for her and sorry for you.

But if it is, I'll remember my own wisdom: it's no use meddling with such things.
For all that, you're a fool, Peter, as I told you last night." "Just so.

And I asked what was a fool." "And I didn't answer.

I reckon fools can be of many sorts.

Your sort of fool chucks the world over for the quest of an ideal." "Thank you," said Peter quietly.
"You needn't.