But this grain of comfort failed him after a second or two, for, upon reflection, he had to admit that Katharine owed him nothing.

Katharine had promised nothing, taken nothing; to her his dreams had meant nothing.

This, indeed, was the lowest pitch of his despair.

If the best of one's feelings means nothing to the person most concerned in those feelings, what reality is left us?
The old romance which had warmed his days for him, the thoughts of Katharine which had painted every hour, were now made to appear foolish and enfeebled.

He rose, and looked into the river, whose swift race of dun-colored waters seemed the very spirit of futility and oblivion.
"In what can one trust, then ?" he thought, as he leant there.