Alice did not answer. Then she said, "Are you sure you feel well enough to work?" She had the brusque presumptuous manner which she knew he tolerated.
"The old dog has a lot of fight in him yet. You mustn't draw too many conclusions from appearances."
The big room with the high shelves was gloomy in candle light.
"These esthetic shadows will spoil your eyes. You'd better get that student lamp down," he said.
Alice walked briskly to a stand in the corner and took down the light. She carried it over to his table.
"You'd better move. It shines there." It hurt her to tell him what to do.
"I'll sit with my back to it."
Alice pushed a heap of books aside and arranged the green cord attachment over the crowded table.
Blindness. Better after all. He can't see me, she thought bitterly.
She sat down with her writing pad in her lap.