"I don't know. My brain's all woolly and it won't think."
Laura closed her eyes; a way she had when she faced terror.
"Nina, it was horrible yesterday. I caught myself wishing——Oh no, I don't; I didn't; I couldn't; it was something else, not me. It couldn't have been me, could it?"
"No, Kiddy, of course it couldn't."
"I don't know. I feel sometimes as if I could be awful. Yesterday, I did a cruel thing to him. I took his newspaper away from him."
She stared, agonized, as if her words were being wrenched from her with each turn of a rack.
"I hid it. And he cried, Nina, he cried."
Her sad eyes fastened on Nina's; they clung, straining at the hope they saw in Nina's pity.
"I can't think how I did it. I couldn't stand it, you know—the rustling."
"Kiddy," said Nina, "you're going to pieces."