"No. I'm not thinking about that. I'd like to write poems. And to get away sometimes and see places. To get away from Mamma."
"You little beast."
"Not more beast than you. You got away. Altogether. I believe you knew."
"Knew what?"
Mark's face was stiff and red. He was angry now.
"That if you stayed you'd be crushed. Like Roddy. Like me."
"I knew nothing of the sort."
"Deep down inside you you knew. You were afraid. That's why you wanted to be a soldier. So as not to be afraid. So as to get away altogether."
"You little devil. You're lying. Lying."
He threw his words at you softly, so as not to hurt you. "Lying. Because you're a beast to Mamma you'd like to think I'm a beast, too."