“Reality means nothing to those who haven’t lived with it. I do.”
“But why?”
“My dear Bertha—that is your name, I think?”
“Oh, God! You are terrible!”
“What would you have me—a whining worm? Crawling to people I despise—squirming from false position to false position? Do you want humility; what is it you want?”
“I want you to be human.”
“Then you want what you have got. I am so human that I’ll see the world damned before I take its pity, or eat its salt. Leave me alone. I am content.”
“Is there nothing I can do?”
“Yes; stand out of my firelight....”