Explore "Together" by Norman Douglas on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Valduna was a surfeit of idiots. Mr. R. waxed grave; he has gained, I think, a definite acquisition of humanity. That is as it should be. Such sights of anguish are a tonic for the soul; they make us serious about things that are worth being serious about; they deepen and broaden our sympathies.
The cheery doctor became still more cheery on hearing my name -- he is a local alpinist -- and did not omit a single patient save one or two of the women who, presumably, were taking sun-baths in _impuris naturalibus_, as was also one of the males, a robust and pretty boy of sixteen; he had a clouded, far-away look, and could not be induced to utter a word. We saw them all; the unclean patients, the unquiet patients, as well as the simple lunatics, sad or glad. There are no violent ones here just now, but some of those who suffered from hallucinations of hearing were sufficiently abusive.