‘Certainly this is true,’ she managed. She laughed altogether in her old manner. Meantime, as the doctor was splitting his breakfast orange, he heard a commotion in his office, two rooms removed: volleys of pidgin English, one voice in protest, the other dominant. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. No matter what they do, always someone to bolster them up, to lend them money, and to coddle them.
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