The images forced themselves upon him,
however much he tried to think of quite other things--of some
fictitious story on which he might set to work. In the case of
his earlier books he had waited quietly until some suggestive
'situation,' some group of congenial characters, came with sudden
delightfulness before his mind and urged him to write; but
nothing so spontaneous could now be hoped for. His brain was too
weary with months of fruitless, harassing endeavour; moreover, he
was trying to devise a 'plot,' the kind of literary
Jack-in-the-box which might excite interest in the mass of
readers, and this was alien to the natural working of his
imagination. He suffered the torments of nightmare--an oppression
of the brain and heart which must soon be intolerable.
CHAPTER VI. THE PRACTICAL FRIEND
When her husband had set forth, Amy seated herself in the study
and took up a new library volume as if to read. But she had no
real intention of doing so; it was always disagreeable to her to
sit in the manner of one totally unoccupied, with hands on lap,
and even when she consciously gave herself up to musing an open
book was generally before her.
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