He addressed the boy as Jay. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood.
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