often to pardon." But the sentence remained open; and I now that it sounded as if it was meant to end with some such phrase as ... because they are so beyond any understanding, beyond any excuse!»
Imre walked on beside me, whistling softly. Just two or three notes, over and over, no tune. Then he remarked abruptly:
«Did you ever happen to meet with... that sort a man... person... yourself... in your own circle of friends?»
Again the small detail, this time one of comission, not omission, on my part! Through it this narrative is, I suspect, twice as long as otherwise it would have been. 'Did I ever know such a man... a 'person',... in my own circle of friends?' Irony could no farther go! I laughed, not in mirth, not in contempt, but in sheer bitterness of retrospect. There are instants when it may be said of other men than Cassius:
«And when he smiles, he smiles in such a sort
As if he mocked himself...»
