19/31 The knight's face, white beneath his black helmet, was tired and worn. About him was the terror of loneliness. His father had always impressed upon him that the Dunes had ever been lonely--lonely in a world that was contemptible. He had always until now accepted this idea and found it confirmed on every side. His six years at Rugby had encouraged him--he had despised, with his tolerant smile, boys and masters alike; all insincere, all weak, all to be used, if he wanted them, as he chose to use them. |