“And is that suffering?”
“Yes, a special kind, for everyone,” she said gravely. “But not a personal torment. You are not to believe in that. Suffering is all alike, yours, mine, everybody’s. All these distinctions and what people say about them is nonsense. Suffering is all the same everywhere for everyone.” She suddenly rose up in bed and said, softly, “Now you do not want to talk to me any more?”
He moved his fingers on the foot-board of the bed.
“I’m sorry,” she said hastily, covered with confusion. “It’s my indolence that does it.”
“What?” he asked timidly.
“Embarrasses you.”
“It’s all right.”
“Now see here,” she continued. “Do you ever think of animals?”
“Why?”
“Do you?”