“How will they receive you?”
“Don’t know, I’m sure.”
“And your friends? I only want to prepare you a little.”
“Fortunately I have private means.”
The chaplain stared. What a piece of luck, or was it—a misfortune?
“If I’d been breakable, your prison would have broken me all right. Have another cigarette?”
“No, thank you.”
The chaplain felt too sad. He had always said nothing could be done with them so long as their will-power was unbroken. Distressing to see a man who had received this great lesson still so stiff-necked; so far from profiting by it. And, lifting his journal, he tried to read. But those eyes seemed boring through the print. It was most uncomfortable. Most!...