But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. I'm ashamed to say that I was too much terrified to scream out—but ran and hid myself. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act.
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