and I make my voice whine, and answer, No!
That didn't sound right either.
You can't play the hypocrite, you idiot! Yes, you should say, I have invoked God my Father! and you must set your words to the most piteous tune you have ever heard in your life. So—o! Once again! Come, that was better! But you must sigh like a horse down with the colic. So—o! that's right. Thus I go, drilling myself in hypocrisy; stamp impatiently in the street when I fail to succeed; rail at myself for being such a blockhead, whilst the astonished passers-by turn round and stare at me.
I chewed uninterruptedly at my shaving, and proceeded, as steadily as I could, along the street. Before I realised it, I was at the railway square. The clock on Our Saviour's pointed to half-past one. I stood for a bit and considered. A faint sweat forced itself out on my face, and trickled down my eyelids. Accompany me down to the bridge, said I to myself—that is to say, if you have spare time!—and I made a bow to myself, and turned towards the railway bridge near the wharf.
The ships lay there, and the sea rocked in