"What has done for me was envy. Envy. There was a lot of them just
bursting with it every time they looked my way. I was doing too well. So
they went to the Public Prosecutor--"
She said hastily "Yes! Yes! I know," and he glared as if resentful that
the child had turned into a young woman without waiting for him to come
out. "What do you know about it?" he asked. "You were too young." His
speech was soft. The old voice, the old voice! It gave her a thrill.
She recognized its pointless gentleness always the same no matter what he
had to say. And she remembered that he never had much to say when he
came down to see her. It was she who chattered, chattered, on their
walks, while stiff and with a rigidly-carried head, he dropped a gentle
word now and then.
Moved by these recollections waking up within her, she explained to him
that within the last year she had read and studied the report of the
trial.
"I went through the files of several papers, papa."
He looked at her suspiciously. The reports were probably very
incomplete. No doubt the reporters had garbled his evidence.
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