As the doorknob turned, Paul continued to contemplate trivia, to atomize the fixtures and conventions of the only way of life he’d ever known, an easy, comfortable life, with simple answers for every doubt. That he was quitting that life, that now was perhaps the time he would do it—the grand idea over-shadowing all the little ones—rarely occupied his consciousness. It showed itself mainly in a sensation of being disembodied, or now and then of standing in a chilling wind. Maybe the right time to quit would come now, or a few months from now. There was no need to hurry, no need at all.
