Olva was dragging with him, into the heart of some terrible climax, these so diverse persons; he could not escape now--other lives were twisted into the fabric of his own.
And yet with this certainty of the futility of it, he must still struggle.

.

.

to the very end.
On that cold day the world seemed to stand, as men gather about a coursing match, with hard eyes and jeering faces to watch the hopeless flight.

.