spectacle of that party was immediate and thus difficult for Sybil, an indigent, to comprehend. This transition from expostulation to admiration was in contempt of every value for which Sybil had an avowed belief. He was, thus, greatly ashamed, when he came round from his stupor, of his moment of arrant disregard for his social kinsman. For he had chanced upon that grandly prodigious mansion for a reason, not to gratify its occupants, but rather to remonstrate with them about the depravity and venality which they had precipitated within the highest legislature of the land. For he, in his personage, constituted little threat to the inner belongings of those vast mansions; instead, he merely wanted to exhibit his beliefs. This abortive struggle for deliverance had rendered him crestfallen. Restricted by intellect and resource, the individual in question was, thus, imperilled by the inevitable pangs of torpidity. Sybil, now overcome with a sense of despondency, survived only off his last vestiges of hope, for he had been greatly dispirited by his inability to garner recognition, and out of fatigue fell to the earth, exhaling what he thought to be his last breath. At that moment, though, he descried, quivering on the horizon, an angel, naked in the stone. A divine being of inimitable hope, who embodied everything for which Sybil had longed. As he waded towards her, through tepid water, her eyes seemed to glaze over, her body to fold back into itself. She was clearly a timorous creature, who needed doting upon and Sybil obliged, bathing her in the seething waters around his feet. Now, with a renewed sense of liberation, he poured all that was good from him into her, but still she did not react and remained inanimate and reticent. He began to caress her shoulder, but no movement transpired. Now he was becoming impatient with her, for he had dedicated himself to her but received nothing in return. He lamented their sorry relationship, for what had she given him – bar life, which he hardly needed anyway? It was
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