“Morning, Mom. "That's the whole difficulty. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. She could not speak. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. I’m sorry. It won’t even know whether to be scandalized at us or forgiving. You have never felt the hearts of all hardened against you; have never heard the jeer or curse from every lip; nor endured the insult and the blow from every hand. What I do know I shall have no hesitation in telling anyone who has the right to ask. " "How?" exclaimed the other.
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