White calls them. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. ’ Her breath tightened and she was obliged to control an inner ferocity. 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. Wood, "and take your son with you.
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