" The Wastrel laughed. The world had not passed by but had gone around it in a tremendous half-circle. I tried to have it out with him, but he wouldn’t have it out. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. Probably he taught me what a joke was merely to irritate my father; for suddenly Father stopped my going to the store for things and sent our old Kanaka cook instead. ’ She paused, holding her nurse’s eyes. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own.
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