“I think I ought to have one. ‘But you do not understand, mon ami. . She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. He called it "The Man Who Could Not Go Home. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared.
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