She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. As it happens sometimes, the idea stepped down from the dream into the reality; and he saw it more clearly now than he had seen it in the dream. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. ’ For my own part I go about loving. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it.
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