She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. “I don’t care a rap for remembering. Sheppard! when I see her thus, and think of all she has endured, of all she may yet have to endure, I could almost pray for her release from trouble. I want to be a human being; I want to learn about things and know about things, and not to be protected as something too precious for life, cooped up in one narrow little corner. I'll talk to her in the morning, but she won't understand what I'm driving at. I have established a fine trade. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat.
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