All that is over and done with.

I feel, now, that we're both in this sort of work from necessity, and not by accident.

It has gripped and engulfed us, now, for good." He raised a hand to stop her, stung to the quick by the misery and bitterness of her voice, still asking himself if it was not only the bitter cry of love for some neglectful love's reply.

But she swept on, abandonedly.
"There's no use quibbling and fighting against it.

We've got to keep at it, and wring out of it what we can, and always go back to it, and bend to it, and still keep at it, to the bitter end!" "Frank, you mustn't say this!" he cried.
"But it's truth, pure truth.