. . . a gloomy, cavelike place far underground. Even I was oppressed by the weight that hung over our heads. A very small hole, high above, admitted a feeble light.

Standing in the light one of them put his hand out. “I think it may be raining out there . . .”

They didn’t like the look of the place.

“You continue to judge everything by the way it looks!” I cried, exasperated by their timidity. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. If you think of all the deceptions practiced in my family, particularly on my father . . .

We went down the only way open to us and came to . . .

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