“I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. In a sense I don’t care. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart. "And me," added Mrs. "When you're older, you'll know that secrets of importance are not disclosed gratuitously.
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