" Nor was this all. Sheppard staggered forward. The Return 231 II. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. The smell of laundry detergent was noticeable, the bed sheets very tightly stretched across the bed, tucked in on three sides. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. His subconscious sensed the unnaturalness of it and recoiled. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. " "By Heaven!" cried Kneebone, with increasing fervour, "it is true—as true as my affection for you. He meditated, and began a new paragraph.
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