” Sebastian drove on. If there is, it’s a mere wrapping—there’s better underneath. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. Not a breath was drawn. The nuns, they were very good with a whip. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. She too had seen. Afterwards we started for déjeuner in a motor. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love.
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