There is remarkably little happy laughter here. The RAGE, you see, is
hostile to this place, the RAGE breaks through.... The people who
drift from one pub to another, drinking, the people who fuddle in the
riverside hotels, are the last fugitives of pleasure, trying to forget
the rage...."
"Isn't it that there is some greater desire at the back of the human
mind?" the doctor suggested. "Which refuses to be content with pleasure
as an end?"
"What greater desire?" asked Sir Richmond, disconcertingly.
"Oh!..." The doctor cast about.
"There is no such greater desire," said Sir Richmond. "You cannot name
it. It is just blind drive. I admit its discontent with pleasure as an
end--but has it any end of its own? At the most you can say that the
rage in life is seeking its desire and hasn't found it."
"Let us help in the search," said the doctor, with an afternoon smile
under his green umbrella. "Go on."
Section 2
"Since our first talk in Harley Street," said Sir Richmond, "I have been
trying myself over in my mind. (We can drift down this backwater.)"
"Big these trees are," said the doctor with infinite approval.
"I am astonished to discover what a bundle of discordant motives I am.
I do not seem to deserve to be called a personality.
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