"I could," replied Thames. Every human being is a new thing, exists to do new things. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. It may not be just, it may not be fair, but things are so. His subconscious sensed the unnaturalness of it and recoiled. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you.
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