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Updated: June 22, 2025
Dan, still on the floor, wrung his hands, calling on the saints and the Virgin to lighten the pain of this man it had been his joy to torture. Neville turned to him. "Get up from there!" he cried sharply. "Go see what you can find to help him." Dan left the room, rubbing his red-flanneled arm across his eyes.
And yet ... how gladly would I give it up if only I could have been in my feather bed last night if I could have awakened at daybreak and crept softly, red-flanneled and barefooted, to the parlor door if I could have groped for grandmother's stocking and felt its lumpy shape respond to my eager touch and if I could have known the thrill of that dapple-grey rocking-horse when I flung my arms around its neck and buried my face in its silken mane!
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