She knew the truth of it all right. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. "But I can guess what it's for. I don’t think we’re altogether to blame if we don’t take some of your lot seriously. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony.
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