“What’s the matter, Flower? What are you looking at?”
“Myself.”
“But you can’t see yourself.”
“I can. Never mind. Is this true what you have been telling me?”
“Yes, it’s quite true. I wish it was a dream, and I might wake up out of it.”
“And you all put this thing at my door?”
“Yes, of course. Dr. Strong said—Dr. Strong has been here twice this evening—he said it was because of last night.”
“Sometimes we can never give back what we take away.” These few words came back to Flower now.
“And you all hate me?” she said, after a pause.
“We don’t love you, Flower; how could we?”