He dare not let his mind dwell upon the long aching years ahead.

He dare not think of the woman he left, or let his mind dwell upon the agony which she was enduring.

He had disappeared from the world, the world he loved, and the world that knew him, and all that there was in life; all that was worth while had been crushed and obliterated into the granite of the Princetown quarries, and its wide horizon shrunken by the gaunt moorland with its menacing tors.
New interests made up his existence.

The quality of the food was one.
The character of the book he would receive from the prison library another.

The future meant Sunday chapel; the present whatever task they found him.