Annie Proulx described Ennis's reaction to Jack's verbal assault on that last morning together:
" ... You're too much for me, Ennis, you son of a whoreson bitch. I wish I knew how to quit you."
Like vast clouds of steam from thermal springs in winter the years of things unsaid and now unsayable -- admissions, declarations, shames, guilts, fears -- rose around them. Ennis stood as if heart-shot, face grey and deep-lined, grimacing, eyes screwed shut, fists clenched, legs caving, hit the ground on his knees.