““Soul,” said Jack, turning toward it again, “you’ve been listening. Do you have any suggestions?” “I have only one desire.” “What is that?” “To be united with you. To go through life with you, comforting and cautioning, and—” “Wait a moment,” said Jack, raising his hand. “What does it require for you to be united with me?” “Your consent.” Jack smiled. He lit a cigarette, his hands trembling slightly. “What if I were to withhold my consent?” he asked. “Then I would become a wanderer. I would follow you at a distance, unable to comfort you and caution you, unable—” “Great,” said Jack. “I withhold my consent. Get out of here.” “Are you joking? That’s a hell of a way to treat a soul. Here I am, waiting to comfort and caution you, and you kick me out. What will people say? ‘There goes Jack’s soul,’ they’ll say, ‘poor thing.””
