He stood
irresolute for a moment, then revolving slowly on his heel, walked, as
if independently of his own volition, over to his desk. He felt very
strangely; he did not remember to have ever felt so strangely before.
His head had become suddenly confused, but at the same time he was
aware that his brain had thrown open its doors to a new arrival, and
that the visitor was trying to make itself heard. It appeared to be a
visitor of great importance, and Dartmouth was conscious that it had
presented itself to his perceptions in the form of an extraordinarily
strong impulse, a great and clamorous Desire. He had been aware of the
same desire before, but only in an abstract way, a general purposeless
longing; but now this peremptory, loudly-knocking consciousness was
vaguely suggesting another--just behind. It would almost seem, if it
were not too preposterous a supposition, as if that second struggling
consciousness were trying to announce itself under the high-sounding
title of--what? He could not formulate it. If his brain were only not
so confused! What could so suddenly have affected him? He was always
so clear-headed and logical.
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