You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. ’ ‘Idiot.
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