midday
The nauseated feeling grew more acute ... . Reaching my office , I shut the door , sat down at my desk , summoned my will , and began to jot down random notes for the part of my speech I was to give the newspapers , notes that were mere silly fragments of arguments I had once thought effective . I could no more concentrate on them than I could have written a poem . Gradually , like the smoke that settled down on our city until we lived in darkness at midday , the horror of what Bitter had told me began to pervade my mind , until I was in a state of terror . Had I , Hugh Paret , fallen to this , that I could stand by consenting to an act which was worse than assassination ? Was any cause worth it ? Could any cause survive it ?