Her dress, her figure, the expression of her face, the tone of her voice—all told him the same: “Not the right thing. All that in which you lived and are living is lying, deceit, hiding life and death away from you.” And as soon as he had formed that thought, hatred sprang up in him, and with that hatred agonising physical sufferings, and with these sufferings the sense of inevitable, approaching ruin. Something new was happening; there were screwing and shooting pains, and a tightness in his breathing.
The expression of his face as he uttered that “Yes” was terrible. After uttering that “Yes,” looking her straight in the face, he turned on to his face, with a rapidity extraordinary in his weakness, and shrieked—
“Go away, go away, let me be!”